


The Kings of Nowhere

by Laurie wonders (Laurie1621), Laurie1621



Series: Is this still a tragedy? [3]
Category: Legacies (TV 2018), The Originals (TV), The Vampire Diaries & Related Fandoms, The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Abusive Parents, Alive Elijah Mikaelson, Alive Kol Mikaelson, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Vikings, Angst, Angst and Tragedy, Angst with a Happy Ending, Aromantic, Asexual Character, Bad Parenting, Bisexual Male Character, Dysfunctional Family, F/F, F/M, Family Bonding, Family Fluff, Family Issues, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Klaus Mikaelson Has A Heart, M/M, Major Original Character(s), Male Homosexuality, Monster Hunters, Multi, Non-Graphic Violence, Nonbinary Character, One Big Happy Family, Other, Parent-Child Relationship, Parenthood, People Change People, Protective Elijah Mikaelson, Protective Rebekah Mikaelson, Rating May Change, Redemption, Redemption Mikael, Threesome - F/M/M, Vikings, Villains to Heroes, Witch Kol Mikaelson
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:22:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 21,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26267929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laurie1621/pseuds/Laurie%20wonders, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laurie1621/pseuds/Laurie1621
Summary: "No one said you get to choosewho would die for you.This cursed blood binds usAlways and forever.For tragedy will still be tragiceven when you take out some maladies.And in the making of this prisonhalf cup of poison can still kill you."OrIn which a kind stranger tells Klaus Mikaelson how to make hybrids. Armed with all the information he needs, Klaus flees with Elena to New Orleans to build his empire.But the Salvatores are not so easily beaten.And things start to fall apart, when the Destroyer has a heart and the Original Witch decides she will love her children to death.Amidst all the chaos, ancient secrets were spit on the table.But can the Mikaelson Family break all the curses placed on them?After a millennia of sorrows, does the truth behind their suffering even matter?[TO/TVD AU]
Relationships: Ansel/Esther Mikaelson, Camille O’Connell & Mikael, Caroline Forbes & Klaus Mikaelson, Caroline Forbes/Camille O'Connell, Caroline Forbes/Klaus Mikaelson, Davina Claire & Camille O’Connell, Davina Claire & Marcel Gerard, Davina Claire/Camille O'Connell, Davina Claire/Elijah Mikaelson, Davina Claire/Kol Mikaelson, Davina Claire/Mikael, Davina Claire/Original Male Character(s), Elena Gilbert/Elijah Mikaelson, Elena Gilbert/Klaus Mikaelson, Elijah Mikaelson/Camille O'Connell, Elijah Mikaelson/Katherine Pierce, Elijah Mikaelson/Klaus Mikaelson, Elijah Mikaelson/Kol Mikaelson, Esther Mikaelson & Henrik Mikaelson, Esther Mikaelson/Klaus Mikaelson, Esther Mikaelson/Rebekah Mikaelson, Hayley Marshall & Hope Mikaelson & Klaus Mikaelson, Hayley Marshall/Camille O'Connell, Hayley Marshall/Elijah Mikaelson, Hayley Marshall/Klaus Mikaelson, Hayley Marshall/Original Male Character(s), Hope Mikaelson & Klaus Mikaelson, Klaus Mikaelson & Original Character(s), Klaus Mikaelson/Camille O'Connell, Klaus Mikaelson/Katherine Pierce, Klaus Mikaelson/Kol Mikaelson, Klaus Mikaelson/Original Male Character(s), Klaus Mikaelson/Rebekah Mikaelson, Klaus Mikaelson/Stefan Salvatore, Kol Mikaelson/Rebekah Mikaelson, Marcel Gerard & Tyler Lockwood & Hayley Marshall & Klaus Mikaelson & Camille O'Connell, Mikael & Elijah Mikaelson, Mikael & Freya Mikaelson, Mikael & Klaus Mikaelson, Mikael & Original Male character, Mikael/Ansel/Esther, Mikael/Esther Mikaelson, Mikael/Klaus Mikaelson, Rebekah Mikaelson/Camille O'Connell
Series: Is this still a tragedy? [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1913977
Comments: 2
Kudos: 26





	1. A Hybrid walks into a bar

**Author's Note:**

> This will be a mix of the plots for first two seasons of The Originals and seasons 3 and 4 of The Vampire Diaries.  
> It will focus on the Mikaelsons and their relationship with each other and their parents. Esther, Ansel and Mikael will also be main characters.There will be lots of divergencies from cannon.  
> Romantic relationships will mostly not be the priority. But Hope, Hayley, Cami and Davina will show up later and be important.  
> Lots of angst, lots of fluff, lots of flashbacks. Some bad jokes, violence and "bad" languege.  
> And yes I know I’m like six years too late in this fandom, but what the hell. I wanna write this. 
> 
> Enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Thee story starts in S03EP3 of The Vampire Diaries

After the fiasco with his first pack, Klaus dragged Stefan to Chicago. They strolled directly into an old bar. Stefan has the odd feeling of remembering the place. 

“You gotta be kidding me!” Gloria says tiredly once she sees Klaus and Stefan.

“So, hybrid walks into a bar,” Klaus begins brightly as he turns to face her. “And the bartender says—,” 

“Stop.” She cuts him off. “You may be invincible now, but that doesn’t make you funny.” She teases. He chuckles softly and smiles cheerfully as he strolls towards her.

“I remember you.” Gloria says, smiling reluctantly at Stefan.

“Yeah. I remember you too.” Stefan says uncertainly. “You’re a witch, right? How come—,”

“I’m not old and dead?” She chuckles. “If I die, who’s gonna run this place?”

“She’s a powerful witch.” Klaus adds. 

“Yeah. I can stay young with herbs and spells. But, don’t you worry, death will catch up with me, eventually.”

“Stefan, mate. Why don’t you fix us something from behind the bar?” Klaus orders, with a sweet masquerade of suggestion. 

“Yeah, sure.” Stefan agrees resentfully. 

“You look gorgeous, love.” Klaus says sweetly to Gloria.

“Don’t start.” She replies tiredly, a hit of an annoyed smile playing on her lips. “I know why you are here.” She gestures to a table and they sit down. “A hybrid out to make more Hybrids? That kind of news travels fast.”

“So what am I doing wrong?” Klaus asks, exasperated. “I broke the curse. I did everything I was told.” He adds bitterly.

“Obviously, you are doing something wrong.” 

Klaus sighs sharply. A enraged and sorrowful shadow dwells in his eyes.

“Look: Every spell has a loophole. But a curse that old… we’d have to contact the witch who created it.”

“Well, that would be the Original witch. She’s very dead, I’m afraid.”

“I know. And for me to contact her, I’ll need help. Bring me Rebekah.” 

“Rebekah!” Klaus repeats as he runs his eyes annoyed through the bar. “She’s preoccupied at the moment.”

“She has what I need, Klaus. Bring her to me.” 

“What the hell is this?” Stefan blurts out, grabbing a picture from the wall. 

“I told you, Stefan.” Klaus replies sweetly as he gets up. “Chicago is a magical place!”

Before Stefan can protest, Gloria breaks his neck with a flick of her hand. His body falls down, making a dry sound as it hits the floor. 

“Well, that was uncalled for!” Klaus teases softly as he turns to face Gloria. “I could have handled him.”

“There’s something else you should know.” She declares formally, as a shadow passed through her face. “And I don’t think you’d want him listening to it.” She added as Klaus sat down in front of her again.

“Alright, then. What is it?”

“It’s about Mikael.” 

Klaus flinches violently. The air seems to burn his lungs as he takes a deep breath, trying to control his trembling lips.

“No one has seen him in years…” he hissed, trying to convince himself his fear was misplaced. “And I am  The Original Hybrid  now. Even if—, he cannot—,” his voice died out before he could finish. 

“You’re right.” Gloria replies softly. “No one has seen him in over thirteen years….” Her eyes wonder around their table. “But,” she exhales. “He has an emissary.”

“An  emissary ?” Klaus scoffs. “My father hasn’t worked with anyone since he got himself a little army to crash Elijah’s fan club!” 

“Well, he has one now, Klaus. It looks like the guy has been with Mikael for some time.” She poured some whiskey into a glass in front of her. “And there are some stories…” 

“Stories about the emissary?”

“People say, well,” she takes a long sip of her drink. “They say he is ‘the spawn of the Hunter’—, some even say ‘the spawn of Devil’. But every one agrees he is almost as terrifying as his daddy…”

“That’s impossible.” Klaus scoffs uncertainly. “Vampires can’t procreate.”

“Well, I’ve heard lots of stories about The Destroyer since you left and,” she chuckles bitterly. “Let’s just say some folks believe he is more Devil than vampire.” She smiles tiredly. “Either way, if the kid is Mikael’s biological or surrogate son; doesn’t really matter. The Man still raised him, and he’s definitely got the crazy to show for it.”

“Why are you telling me all of this?” Klaus blurts out. He glances around suspiciously; fear and rage boiling his nerves. “What is it to me?”

“He showed up here. The emissary, I mean. About a week ago.” She replies, shifting on her sit. “And, God, Klaus! I’m telling you,” she chuckled bitterly. “The damn boy is the spited image of The Destroyer….”

“What did he want?” Klaus blurts out, feeling his eyes burning with tears. 

“He was looking for his daddy.”

“He doesn’t know where Mikael is?”

“Apparently not.” She sighed. “The kid put on a brave face, but… he looked troubled.” 

Klaus feels his mind racing through numb thoughts. He sees distorted bits of his childhood. Flashes of his early memories of Mikael pass behind his eyes. Klaus remembered his father’s cruel words; his rage and the fear it ignited in Klaus’ heart; the many nights he spent crying himself to sleep after Mikael had scolded him for being foolish. 

Then, Klaus imagines Mikael raising this child tenderly: telling him stories; putting him to bed; messing with his hair gently; playing with him; taking the boy into his arms and raising him to his shoulders… All the things Klaus had always wished Mikael would do with him; all the kindness his father neglected to give him.

“Listen,” Gloria’s voice pulled Klaus out of his petrified dreamlike state. “Here’s what I think: either Mikael raised that kid as bad as he raised the rest of you, and the boy is out for his daddy’s blood…” she shyly studies Klaus’ face. His mouth, which had been contorted into a tense line, seemed to soften significantly. 

He had not thought about it. The chances that Mikael was as terrible to this boy as he had been to him were far greater than the chances of Mikael being a good and loving father. Still, the mere thought of the existence of this new ‘sibling’ made knots appear in his stomach. He wondered if Elijah and Rebekah would like the boy as much as they liked him. And, despite his best intentions, it made him jealous.

“Or someone put the Big Bad Hunter on ice,” Gloria continues. “And his super loyal kid,—who he miraculously didn’t raise like a punching bag—, is trying to get him free…”

Klaus feels his heart sinking in his chest. The idea of Mikael having a son who he loved and cherished on its own made him want to scream for centuries. But the thought of said son being as fierce as his father and working together with Mikael to kill him…. it made Klaus wish the floor could open, so he crawl into the hole and hide. Though, the worst thought that crossed his mind was of his siblings. Who would they stand with: Him or this boy? 

They had stood with him for over a millennium. But Klaus had attacked them far too many times for them to love him unconditionally. He knew it. That is why he liked to keep them in boxes… Though the question of their loyalty remained and he could not answer. It all made his chest hurt. The air seemed to have forsaken his lungs. Mikael’s voice roaring viciously in his mind. 

“But, either way,” Gloria continues, once again pulling Klaus out of his thoughts. “My advice for you is the same: try to get on the kid’s good side.”

Klaus scoffs. “Do I look like a man who does boot licking to you?” He replies aggressively.

“I’m serious, Klaus. That boy ain’t playing around. He ain’t a vampire either. But he’s powerful.” She chuckles. “To be honest, no one really knows what the hell he is. But—,” she glances at him. “He  can do magic. The real powerful sort. And he knows Mikael. If this thing with Rebekah doesn’t work—,”

“Well, alright, then!” He scoffs bitterly. “Do you know where he is?” 

“The word is the kid is still in town.” She sighs. “I can point you to the place. But I really think you should go in with a white flag.” 

“Alright.” He scoffs softly. Klaus shrugs, annoyed, as he studies Gloria’s face. She seems to alarmed. A dreadful thought crossed his mind like lighting. It makes suspiciousness burn within him. “What is it you get from all of this?” 

“Hold your horses right there, mister.” She replies, annoyed. “I am not trying to take you down or anything.” She scoffs bitterly. “I still own you, remember?” She adds shyly.

Klaus grunts and looks away. He tries to keep his mind in check, but it keeps wandering off to dark places. His fear and paranoia getting the better of him.

“Hey!” She calls softly. “I don’t want no war in my city, alright?” She declares determined. “I met your father once and I don’t wanna see him here ever again, Klaus.” Gloria glances around as she runs her hand through her hair. “Well, the hell do I know?” She sighs and chuckles bitterly. “But I think this kid can help you take that damned monster down.” 

Klaus studies her face. A sorrowful light dwells over her features. He sighs sharply.

“I’ll hazard a guess,” he begins quietly, “Mikael didn’t just leave after he saw I wasn’t here, did he?”

“No.” Gloria scoffs. “The goddamned monster almost burned the entire city to the ground!” She adds bitterly.

Klaus studies her face briefly. A sorrowful silence involves them for some time. Though, it is broken by Stefan loudly getting up. Klaus exhales deeply before getting up.

“Alright.” Klaus whispered as he glances over to Stefan. “Take me to him.” He mutters to Gloria, his eyes filled with a quiet rage. 


	2. The Hunter and the Hybrid

Gloria walked with Klaus and Stefan to the house where Mikael’s (supposedly) newest child was said to be. It looked more like a museum than a livable place. It was the oldest property on the street. It was large, fancy and had something of mystical to it.

Gloria did not want to go inside. Not for the life of her. This alarmed Klaus. A voice in the back of his mind warning him that Mikael could be there. So he used all his charms to convince her. He insisted that he might need her help. His voice was filled with dangerous sweetness. Gloria eyed him apprehensively; she knew listening to him was a wretched idea. She did not want to be dragged to the middle of another Mikaelson feud. But her curiosity got the better of her and she agreed to go in. 

“It’s open! Come on in!” A boyish voice yelled from inside as Klaus knocked.

Klaus swallowed and cleaned his throat as he punched open the door. He tilted his head back defiantly as he strolled in; his eyes filled with rage as he tried to maintain his facade of confidence. But it was clear Klaus’ heart was almost jumping out of his mouth. His eyes jumped around the old house, as though the walls could come to life and end him. 

A hint of a smile played on Stefan’s lips as he thought Klaus looked like a scared puppy. His head turned around suddenly, at every new sound and, if Klaus had a tail, he would have tucked it between his legs. Klaus had not really explained what they were going to do there. Stefan knew it had something to do with creating more hybrids. But Klaus had refused to specify Stefan’s role in it. And Stefan wondered what to do as he glanced around the parlor which was overcrowded with antiques, paintings, musical instruments and books.

“Hello, there!” The same voice shouted as a young man appeared at the top of a staircase. He carried a small box filled with old artifacts. “Sorry for the mess.” He said sweetly as he gesticulated to the unorganized parlor with his free hand. “I’m Hunter.” He announced politely as he put the box down over a small table in the parlor's corner. “Are you looking for something?” He inquired without looking up from the box. “We can’t really sell anything now. We gotta wait for the auction tomorrow night. But I can ask someone to get you tickets.” He informed haphazardly.

He had merely glanced briefly at them while strolling down the stairs. But other things quickly diverted his attention. “Oh, there you are.” He muttered to himself. Hunter walked straight to a tall pile of books laid on the floor and picked a small purple rock, which had being placed on the top of the pile.

Klaus opened his mouth to respond, but found that his voice had died in his throat. He felt his heart beating a thousand times faster. 

The boy looked nothing like Mikael. And yet, Klaus thought he was seeing a younger version of his father walk down the stairs. He looked no older than seventeen. His longish dark blond hair fell over his face as he tried to tie it into a ponytail (though he quickly gave up on it). He looked absurdly childish doing it. Klaus thought he was not tall enough to be Mikael’s son; and he was also too thin to be any good at fighting. Everything about his presence seemed too soft and naïve to survive anywhere near The Destroyer. He was delicate, angelic even. Mikael should hate him; he should have broken him already. 

“We, uh, we are here for a spell, actually. Right?” Stefan blurted out once it was clear neither Klaus nor Gloria would say anything. He glanced at Klaus, trying to to make sense of his expression. 

Klaus’ posture had, somehow, became even more tense than it had been when they entered. His lips trembled slightly as he contorted them into a thin line. He stared religiously at Hunter; a quiet rage beginning to cloud his vision as he felt his stomach boiling with fear. 

“Oh!” Hunter remarked softly, as he turned to face them. “Well, hello again then!” A sweet smile shaped the boy’s lips as he quietly studied his visitors’ faces. “You’re Gloria, right?” He chuckles softly as his eyes swept the room. 

Klaus felt a shiver run down his spine as the boy’s eyes fell upon him. Hunter’s eyes were of shining bright blue, not too unlike Klaus’s. But they held a strange menace; an alien sense of dangerous underneath his overwhelming youthful tenderness. It painfully reminded Klaus of Mikael’s cruel eyes.

Hunter smiled cheerfully at Klaus. “Well, I’ll be dammed!” He laughed softly as he strolled towards them. “If it isn’t Freaky Nicky!” He teases tenderly, staring kindly at Klaus. “You know, he always talks loads about you. But it’s good to finally meet you!” 

There was no trace of malice in his voice. In fact, he sounded like a hyper-excited child. Nothing in Hunter’s posture could have made anyone believe he was not happy to see Klaus. His excitement was undeniably genuine. Yet, it ignited a primal fear in Klaus’ heart. 

Klaus instinctively ran for his life. He rushed to the door. But, as Klaus tried to punch it open, he discovered Hunter had locked him inside. Klaus desperately glanced at Gloria and Stefan, but something petrified them; their eyes empty. 

“What the hell is this?” Klaus asked desolately; his heart halfway through crawling out of his mouth. 

“It’s just some magic tricks. Nothing much, really.” Hunter answered casually, as though Klaus had asked him for directions. “They’ll be fine, don’t you worry.” He gestured haphazardly at Gloria and Stefan as he took a small metallic box out of a drawer and laid it over the central table of the parlor. “I thought we could use some privacy.” He informed with a far more serious posture. 

Klaus took a deep breath as he grabbed the first mildly sharp thing he could find (a ukulele) and jumped to attack Hunter. But something held his body back, as though he was trying to enter a house without being invited in. He rushed away and realized he could not step over a red line painted on the floor. 

“Like I said: magic tricks! You never know. So always be careful, right?” He added sweetly. “But don’t worry too much about it.” Hunter continued tiredly.

Klaus gazed viciously at him. He quickly threw the ukulele at Hunter. The boy duck in the last moment and it crashed against the steps of the staircase. Hunter laughed quietly as he glanced at the broken ukulele and back at Klaus.

“Easy there, Wolfie!” Hunter urged tenderly; a bright smile played on his lips. “Daddy ain’t home, mate!” He chuckled softly. “Just calm down, Jesus!”

Klaus stared at him; almost burning the boy’s skin with his ferocious gaze. Hunter exhaled as he took the purple rock and laid it on the table between them. As he raised his eyes to meet Klaus’, all traces of a smile had run from his face. 

“I’m guessing—, if you were this worried he would be here—, you wouldn’t know where he is, would you?” A quiet sorrowfulness drowned his voice. 

It caught Klaus off guard. He did not want to believe this boy liked Mikael. In fact, he could not bring himself to believe someone could like his father, without destroying most of his world views. But it was undeniable that Hunter either cared for Mikael deeply; or was desperate to find The Destroyer, for some unknown reason.

“And I’ll hazard a guess that neither do you.” Klaus scoffed, trying to reclaim his posture of confidence and authority. Though, it was obvious Klaus could hardly frighten him.

“Nope.” Hunter sighed as he ran his hand through his hair. “The damn son of a bitch has been ghosting me. Can you believe it?” He joked; though a bitterness overwhelmed his voice. Hunter scoffed. “I was kinda hoping you’d know where he is. But—,” he ran his eyes through the table, avoiding Klaus’s gaze. “I mean, I guess I should be glad you haven’t gutted him yet, right?” Hunter jested; a hint of uncertainty dwelling on his voice. He sighed softly and raised his eyes, trying to smile playfully.

Klaus stared at Hunter, trying to make sense of his expression. While simultaneously, keeping his thoughts under control. A malignant voice seemed to scream in the back of his head, telling him to cut the boy in half and throw himself out of the window before Mikael magically arrived. But the dreadful question burned in his mind, and Klaus knew he could not leave without asking it. 

“So,” he cleans his throat, gazing uncertainly at Hunter. “Are you his—?”

“You shouldn’t ask questions if you know you won’t like the answer—, no matter what the answer is.” He scoffed. “It’s childish, you know?” Hunter teased with a smirk. “But, anyway, _I’m_ looking for him.” He added tiredly.

“What for?” Klaus barked, feeling his anger slowly boiling up inside him.

“Dunno. Haven’t decided yet.” Hunter declared playfully. “It mostly depends on how much of an asshole he’s gonna be when I find him. So,” he chuckled softly. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll even gut him for you.” 

“What was he like—?” Klaus blurted out unconsciously. His mind quickly raced to dreadful thoughts. He was sure he needed to know that Mikael was as terrible to Hunter as he had been to him. But, now that the answer could be near, Klaus found he did not want to know. His thoughts rushed back to more pleasurable out comes. His mind dwelled briefly on Gloria’s prophetic words: ‘ _The kid can help you take the goddamn monster down for good!’._ A hint of a smile played on his lips as he thought: _Perhaps a new younger brother would not be so bad... If he can help me kill Mikael..._

“Listen!” Hunter scoffed loudly. “I’d love to stay here and chat all day long about how much of a prick Mikael is, ok? But I have other things to do and, besides,” he glanced at Gloria and Stefan. “If I leave them like that for too long, you won’t like them as much afterwards.” He informed darkly. “So let’s cut it out, shall we?” He smiled cheerfully as he turned to face Klaus. “I have a proposition for you.”

Klaus scoffed. “What kind of proposition?”

“The kind where we both get what we want, dummy!” He teased softly. “You wanna know how to make more Hybrids and I _need_ to find Mikael.”

Klaus scoffed loudly. “And how _exactly_ can we help each other?” he asked scornfully. “Why would I even—.”

“Easy: I know how to make more Hybrids. And you can help me find Mikael!”

“I have no idea where he is. No one has—,”

“Seen him in years? Yeah, yeah. I know, I know.” Hunter remarked, gesticulating, annoyed. “But you can still give me some information that could help me find him. And, in exchange, I’ll tell you what you are doing wrong in the Hybrid-making business.” 

“Right!” Klaus scoffed, irritated. “And you know lots about hybrids, do you?” He said aggressively, staring at Hunter with the viciousness of a thousand suns. “ _God_! This was a waste of time!” He chuckled bitterly. “ _Why_ should I even believe what you are saying when you have not given me a single proof that this is not a trap?” He shouted, his voice trembling with anger, as he gesticulated to the parlor. 

Hunter raised his eyebrows and scoffed softly. “Look here Mister Short Fuse: you get more from this deal than I do, alright? So how about you stop whining like a baby and just bloody _hear me out_?” He snapped tiredly. 

Klaus exhaled sharply. “If you think I need your—.”

“ _Oh, for fuck’s sake!_ ” Hunter shouted. “You are insufferable! _Gods!_ ” He sighed loudly. “Listen, I don’t care about this stupid bloody feud you two have! And he is not here! I just—,” he chuckled bitterly. “Jesus, _I just want to find him!_ ” He shouted. 

The ground briefly shook. Klaus stared at Hunter as confusion and fear contorted his face. Hunter stared religiously at the floor until the ‘earthquake’ stopped. He still breathed heavily when he raised his eyes to meet Klaus’s. 

“I’m sorry.” He muttered softly. He took a sharp breath and exhaled deeply before continuing. “Listen: just—, just tell me if you know where the new doppelgänger is—or used to live, alright?” He breathed. “You tell me that and I’ll tell you the hybrid stuff. That’s the deal.” 

“The doppelgänger?” Klaus repeated numbly. “That’s it? What do you want with her?” 

“Nothing. Just—, I think he went after her. But I’m not sure.” He sighed. “Still, it’s as good as a clue as any. So,” he gazed softly at Klaus. “Do you know where she is?”

“Yes.” Klaus replied as he studied Hunter’s face. 

“So?” 

Klaus scoffed. “How about you keep your part of the deal first and tell me about the hybrids?” Klaus asked, irritated as he looked away. 

“Alright.” Hunter studied Klaus’s face. “But give me your word first.”

“Sure.” Klaus blurted out impatiently. “You have my word!”

“The doppelgänger.” Hunter blurted out awkwardly. Klaus opened his mouth to complain, but Hunter quickly continued: “She’s gotta be alive and human. If you give the wolves her blood and yours, they should transform just fine.” 

“The doppelgänger is the key to making hybrids? But the spell said she had to die!” Klaus shouted, exasperated. He glanced around infuriated, begging all the Gods that the Salvatore brothers and Elijah brought Elena back from the dead. 

“Yeah, uh, so Mother Nature kinda like _really_ don’t want Hybrids to exist, ya know? Like that really fucks up the whole ‘Perfect Balance’ thingy and all….”

“And she has to be human?” Klaus asked desperately. Hunter nodded confidently. “And what if she isn’t?” 

“Well, then things get way more complicated. But not impossible.” Hunter shrugged softly as he gazed into his box full of magic items. “Actually!” he startled. “I think she might still be human...” He said awkwardly as he grabbed a candle from inside the box. “Let me check!” He added tenderly before Klaus could ask anything. Hunter said something in Latin and the candle lighted up. Its flames quickly turned blue. “Yep! She’s still alive and still human.” he affirmed brightly as he smiled at Klaus. 

As Klaus felt a vicious smile play on his lips, his thought wandered. Victorious images played in his head. _Finally_ , he thought, _after a thousand years I’ll never be alone or weak again!_

“So?” Hunter urged, annoyed, pulling Klaus out of his daydreams. “Where did she live then?”

Klaus considered lying to him. But something about the rock Hunter had sat on the table, gave him the strange feeling of being unable to lie. Klaus decided to be truthful. Though, in the back of his mind, he imagined what he would do to Mikael (and perhaps Hunter, if the boy continued to be annoying) once he had his army of Hybrids. It warmed his chest with a sweet rage and cooled down his fear.

“Alright!” Klaus scoffed. “She used to live in a place called Mystic Falls.” 

“Mystic Falls, huh.” Hunter said as he grabbed a pen and wrote it down swiftly on a piece of paper. He sighed brightly as he looked at the words. A small smile played on his lips as he glanced up. “Thanks a lot!” He added tenderly. Klaus studied his face.

“That’s it, then.” Hunter said, clapping his hands together after a moment of silence. “It was a pleasure making business with you, sir.” He said with a pompous bow and a fake serious face. A childish laugh cut across his breath. 

His sweetness overwhelmed Klaus. His laugh and voice seemed so dreadfully familiar: it reminded him of Henrik. Klaus’s thoughts rushed to out lavish and terrible theories as he stared at Hunter. Though, all thoughts gave him the same feeling of being kicked in the chest. He quickly got a hold of his mind as rage boiled up inside him again. Especially once he remembered the important question Hunter had failed to answer. However, knowing he would hardly get a better response now, Klaus let his mind drift to other pressing questions. Though, Klaus hoped he would have another chance to ask his question (and get a truthful answer), once he made the boy let his guard down. 

“Why couldn’t you just do one of those spells and locate her?” Klaus inquired as Hunter put the paper in his pocket. 

Hunter shrugged. “It’s more difficult than that. I mean, sometimes, Mikael, uh, well he puts a kind of, I don’t know, a fail-safe thingy. But like for magic?” Hunter blurted out awkwardly. “When he doesn’t want me to know or do something, he has someone put one of those on it.” He chuckled softly. “I guess it’s cause he knows I’ll definitely try to do it even if, I mean, especially if, he tells me not to do it so,” he chuckled brightly. “It’s like those ‘parental restrictions’ thing, ya know? Hunter added with a soft laugh.

Klaus stared at him, feeling a strange knot in his throat. Though, he could not know if it was of anger, jealousy or something else. He opened his mouth again, the same dreadful question burning on his tongue. But the sound of an ancient (and ridiculously loud) clock stopped him. The sound startled Hunter.

“Jesus fuck me Christ.” He cursed under his breath. “Uh, I think you should probably go now.” Hunter suggested sweetly as he turned to face Klaus. “The spell I put on your friends will be undone soon. So they can move again. And—,” he stared at Klaus uncertainly. A strange silence fell over them. 

“And what?” Klaus snapped, irritated. But he gazed at Hunter with burning anticipation. Something in the boy’s posture had changed. 

“You won’t remember this in a few days.” He replied darkly.

“What?”

“Ah. Don’t worry. I won’t remember this—, you, either.” Hunter chuckled softly. “I guess if, or when, we meet again, we’ll both remember. That is: if we spend enough time together to remember, I guess. I mean—.” He smiled shyly. “To be honest, I’m not sure how it works.” He glanced tenderly at Klaus. “They won’t remember me. Once you leave. But that bit was me.” He added.

“How? Why—?”

“Dunno. You will still remember the important stuff, though. But—.” Hunter sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “It’s always like this. You shouldn’t think too much about it, brother.” A sweet smile shaped Hunter's lips as his eyes shined with a devilish yellow glow. 

Klaus' mind raced madly through incoherent thoughts. The thought of Hunter’s yellow eyes lingered longer. But it was cut off by images of Mikael and Esther. Hunter's words made his heart almost crawl out of his chest. Klaus opened his mouth, a thousand questions burning his tongue. Nothing came out.

A sudden gleam of light blinded his vision and empty his mind. He was almost glad for it.


	3. Becoming King is the Loneliest Thing: A memoir by Klaus Mikaelson

**New Orleans. Six months later.**

_Burning red. That was the missing color._ Klaus looked away from the window and strolled back to his latest painting. He could not help but glance furtively at the great clock over the fireplace. It was almost 5pm.

Cami knocked gently. 

“You are late!” Klaus called, annoyed as she entered his studio.

“Yeah, well, some people have actual jobs.” Cami teased as she sat down behind her usual table. “Not everyone can be the ruler of a city’s supernatural underground.” she calmly organized a few of his drawings, which he had thrown untidily over the table, before opening her computer. 

“You could have called.” he replied softly. 

“Right.” She scoffed. “When you pay me for these sessions, I’ll consider it.” Cami jested with a tender smile. 

“I can drown you in riches if you so desire.” Klaus teased. “But I thought you said this would not be a professional thing—,”

“And it won’t. I’m here as your friend. Not your therapist, Klaus.” she declared solemnly. “But, God. I really don’t think a ‘memoir’ is the most productive thing that could come out of this.”

“Perhaps not.” Klaus chuckled. “But it certainly is the most fun.” 

Cami sighed as a small smile played on her lips. “This one is looks nice.” she commented as she briefly gazed at his painting. 

“Thank you.” Klaus muttered, his eyes filled with ravishing pride.

“So where were we again?”

“I suppose I had just finished telling you about my siblings and their betrayals throughout the centuries.” Klaus gesticulated as put his paintbrush down. He sat next to Cami. “I believe now is the moment where you usually tell me your opinions about my behavior.”

“Yeah.” Cami sighed. “But I think I’m gonna keep my opinions on your relationship with your siblings to myself for a while longer. If you don’t mind.” she declared opening a new document on her computer. 

“As you wish.” Klaus shrugged. He watched her typing in silence. “But may I ask why is that?”

Cami gazed at him and smiled. “I want to hear the rest of the story first.” she replied, tying up her hair. “And I also want to ask you a few questions once we are done with the history part of this thing.” she smiled tenderly.

“Very well, love.” Klaus smiled. But curiosity burned in his mind.

“So,” Cami began as she read through a few of her notes. “You said there was some trouble after you broke your curse. Something with the new hybrids?”

“Yes. But, fortunately, I met someone in Chicago, who helped me with that.” Klaus commanded haphazardly.

“Oh, just  someone ?” Cami raised an eyebrow. “You usually give me names.” She scoffed softly, a smile on her lips. “Descriptions even.” 

“Well,” Klaus opened his mouth to shot a witty reply, but found he could not answer. His mind had rarely drifted to that day. Still, when he thought about it, Klaus felt his chest becoming hollow. He could not remember who had told him about the hybrids. Part of him wished to believe it was Gloria, and sometimes he convinced himself it was. But he never had the courage to ask her—a voice in the back of his head always yelled that it was best if he did not know the answer to his questions.

With the passing of time, however, the question of the identity of the witch who had helped him cooled down. Klaus was glad for it. Especially once he invited Gloria to help him with his new kingdom. She was reluctant to leave Chicago at first, but, once again, Klaus used all his charm to convince her. And the powerful magic the witches of the New Orleans’ Coven possessed intrigued Gloria enough for her to pretend Klaus’ charm convinced her.

“This one is not that important.” He blurted out, trying to sound casual, as pulled himself away from his doubts.

“Okay.” Cami studied his posture suspiciously. Klaus seemed slightly alarmed, so she decided not to comment further on it. “What happened after that?”

“Well. Once I knew the doppelgänger was the key to making hybrids, all I had to do was get my hands on her and move here—a place filled with werewolves ready to be free of their curse.”

“So can I assume this ‘doppelgänger’ is the poor girl you keep locked up here and ‘getting your hands on her’ means kidnapping?” Cami said, her voice filled with a dry, reproaching tone.

She narrowed her eyes as they fell over his face, her mouth contorted into a thin line. He barely tried to hold her judgemental gaze. Klaus sighed and looked away, seemingly very interested in the ceiling and walls.

Cami sighed when it became clear he had no intention of responding. “Klaus, you—,”

“ Oh, please, Camille !” Klaus blurted out, exasperated. “I’ve already said I have every intention to free her when I’m done dealing with the bloody Salvatores.” He sighed. “But I  need her. Just as I  need my Hybrids.”

“You’ll free her  if she cooperates . Right?” Cami added with a sigh. “You know what?” She chuckled bitterly. “I don’t think I’m in the right state of mind to hear your excuses for that now.” Her own words filled her eyes with a strange, dreadful light. “But we will talk about it later.” Cami raises her chin as she gazed back at him.

“Alright..” Klaus muttered uncertainly.

He dreaded such a conversation. He knew Cami would make the guilt he already held in his chest burned warmer. Part of him admitted that keeping Elena in locked away was a step too far. As cruel as death could be, captivity was a thousand times worse. Klaus had experienced the latter first hand. Mikael had him thrown into a dark room in Copenhagen, 1567. His father's words still made shivers run down Klaus’ spine:

_“Oh, don't you worry now, boy. I won't kill you just yet.” Mikael said, his hand carved into Klaus’ shoulder as he pinned his bastard son to the wall. He had the white oak stake pressed against Klaus’ chest. “I'll keep you alive for a while. Locked away like beasts should be. And then,” Mikael chuckled softly as Klaus tried not to tremble. “I'll teach you what genuine pain is… and you will beg me for something as kind as death…”_

Mikael left afterwards. And Klaus sat on the floor, crying. His siblings found and saved him only a few hours later. But it felt like ages. Almost three centuries later, Klaus still had nightmares about the damned room….

And yet, keeping Elena in the same situation was a necessary evil. She was one of the few things which could save his life, when Mikael eventually found him.

Cami inhaled sharply, pulling Klaus away from his spiraling thoughts.

“Anyway,” Cami looked back to her computer. “What was the first thing you did once you got to New Orleans?”

Klaus cleaned his throat. “I sought my old protege and friends, Marcellus.” He went on. “Who had become the leader of the vampire faction in my absence and was using the power of your little friend to keep both the wolves and the witches under his thumb.”

“Until you fell from the sky, making Hybrids and befriending the witches.” Cami added jestingly. “And Davina is alright, if you were wondering.” She continued, in a mildly reproaching tone. 

“I’m glad she is. The girl deserves the best!” Klaus said, trying to hide his sarcasm, but failing miserably. “How’s Joshua doing?” 

Cami sighed. “He’s good too. But no thanks to you.”

Klaus swallowed and gazed away. Davina and Josh were not topics he enjoyed discussing.

“But I’d let you know.” He added abruptly. “That Marcel was quite happy with our alliance and later agreement.”

“Yeah. Right.” Cami chuckled bitterly. “He was so happy with your little agreement, you had to compel  me to be sure he wouldn’t betray you.”

Klaus sighed. “Yes. Well, it was a necessary evil.” He began uncertainly. “One which, considering the outcome, I don’t regret in the slightest.” His usual playful smile shaped his lips.

Cami scoffed and glanced back to her computer. She typed, mildly annoyed, as she avoided Klaus’ eyes. Her mouth contorted into a tense line.

“You have to understand, Camille… Given my circumstances over the centuries, I always have to be careful with whom I trust.” He added shyly. 

Cami stopped typing, but still did not glance at Klaus. She fidgeted with a pen, while trying to decide what to replies. Klaus sighed as he studied her face. A dark shadow passed through his eyes as he went on, six miles per hour:

“My ‘stress induced paranoia’, as you call it, is the one thing which has helped me survive for this long. And if, if I sometimes do terrible and monstrous things, Camille, it is only because they are what will keep me alive in the end. And if you think me to be evil, I—,”

“You already know I don’t.” She cut him off. 

Klaus stared at her. Only now realizing memories of Mikael plagued to his mind. And rebellious tears tried to take over his eyes. 

Cami sighed. “I don’t believe in evil as a diagnosis, Klaus. And I don’t think you are a monster.” She smiled at him. “I think anyone can become a better person. But I also know it’s a thousand times harder to be better if you are in an awful place.” She looked around as she chuckled. “I think you are in a much better place than you used to be—than you grew up in. And with a little help and support you can overcome your demons and be happy.” She declared, her heat filled with determination.

For a moment, he gazed at her in silence. His face drowned by paradoxical emotions. He opened and closed his mouth, wondering if he still had a voice. He glanced away. His painting caught his eyes. Klaus sighed softly, before turning to her again. A playful smile shaped his lips.

“Oh. I see. So this is, in fact, your attempt to force me into redemption?” He asked scornfully. “You wish to make me a better and less monstrous man?” Klaus scoffed. Sarcasm permeated his every word. “I’m afraid to inform you, Camille, that yours is a lost cause.” He chuckled.

Cami scoffed. “Well, I don’t think so.” A tender smile shaped her lips as she gazed at him. “In fact, I’m sure of it.” She continued matter-of-factly. “I’ve seen it, Klaus. When you tried to save my uncle.”

“But I didn’t save him.” he pointed out, darkly.

“No.” Cami sighed. Memories of Kiren drowning her mind. “No. You didn’t save him. But you came to help when I asked you. And you tried. Without asking for anything in return.” She inhaled, as a warm hint of a smile played on her lips. “You aren’t a monster. I know that. And so do you.”

Klaus stared at her. His minds racing through incoherent thoughts. He opened his mouth, still undecided on what to say, when Cami’s phone rang madly.

“Sorry.” She muttered, grabbing the phone. “It’s probably Davina.” She sighed. “We had a thing—,”

“Do you have to go?”

She looked at the missed calls. “Uh, yeah.” She replied, uncertain. “But I can stay a bit longer, if you—.”

“No.” Klaus sighed. “You should go.”

“Are you sure? We barely wrote anything down.”

“Yes.” Klaus got up. “Go. Your little witch might need you.” He added, gazing at his drawings.

“Okay.” She nodded. Cami quickly organized her things as her phone rang again. “See you tomorrow, then.” She walked to the door, a feeling of uncertainty still dwelling in the back of her mind.

“Thank you.” Klaus muttered, barely loud enough for her to hear. 

Cami smiled softly as she closed the door behind her. Once he found himself alone, Klaus went back to his painting. He wondered what he should call like.  The first transformation of the hybrid was a bit much, but it had a nice ring to it.

Klaus picked the painting brush, but halted abruptly. As he turned around, a familiar and deadly presence took his breath away. 

Cami answered Davina’s next call as she walked out of the Compound. 

“Hey! I’m on my way to the—,”

“ Cami! Are you ok?” Davina yelled.

Davina’s cracking voice made Cami halt. 

“I am. Everything is fine. I was with—,”

“ I need your help—,”  Her desperate voice made Cami think Davina had been crying.

“Davina!” Cami called when the girl abruptly stopped talking. “Davina. Are you okay?”

“ Fuck!”  Davina screamed over the phone. “ It’s not working!” Sobs cut her breath. “ Cami, it’s not working. I don’t know what to do. Please, help—,”

“What’s happening?” Cami blurted out. “Where are you? Tell me where you are and I’ll come get you. Davina? Davina!” She called desperately.

Davina didn’t answer. She had hung up. Cami tried calling. No one answered. 

She felt lightheaded as she briefly watched the cars pass by. Her heart trying to crawl out of her mouth. Cami turned around and rushed back to the Compound. 


	4. Hello, brother

As Klaus turned around, he was faced with his sister’s wrathful gaze.

“Rebekah...” the words left his lips, almost a whisper. His grip around his painting brush tightened.

“Hello there, Nik.” She replied with a fake smile, raising her chin. But soon tears began to map her face. Rebekah rushed to Klaus, wrapping her arms around him and resting her head on his shoulders. “You were right, Nik.” she muttered in his ear, trying to control her the unforgiving sobs which threatened to cut her breath.

Klaus sighed in relief. He dropped the painting brush and hugged her tightly. “Bekah, tell me what happened.” he asked as he pulled away from the embrace.

“Oh, you won’t belive the week just had.” She chuckled miserably. “The Salvatores pulled off the dagger. Then tried to convince me to help them against you. And Stefan...” her voice cracked and died out. “Gods, why am I always so foolish!”

“It’s alright, little sister.” Klaus touched her face gently, cleaning her tears. He was happy his sister had come to her senses, though he was uncertain about what to say. “It was not your fault. I trusted him as well.” He added with a soft smile. “Do you know where they are?”

“Dead.” she replied, her eyes glowing with a devilish light as she raised her blood-stained hands. Klaus chuckled at the sight.

“We must celebrate, then!” he declared joyfully, as he move to grab a bottle of whisky.

“There’s more, Nik.” Rebekah added, darkly. “The Salvatores found Mikael. They ran a dagger through his heart.”

“Mikael is daggered?” Klaus asked, his knees shaking slightly. A euphoric sensation of relief drowned his senses.

“Yes. He’s out of our lives for good now, Nik.” Rebakah tried to smile as more tears mapped her face. She tried to clean her face as she gazed at his paintings. “I told those little puppies of yours to go take him and bring him to the plantation house.” she sighed. “I thought you’d be there.”

“It’s alright.” Klaus said, draining the content of a bottle. “Tonight we shall throw a party there. To celebrate our freedom.” Klaus put the bottle down and moved to the door.

“Nik.” Rebekah called uncertain. He turned to face her. “What about our brothers, shouldn’t they celebrate this with us?” she asked innocently.

Klaus shrugged. “Perhaps.” he sighed. “I’ll think about it, little sister.” he tried to smile, but his mind sprinted to suspicious thoughts.

“Take them to the plantation house.” Rebekah blurted out, her eyes jumping around nervously. “Please.” she added as he eyed her. “Even if you do not undagger them, at least they will be with us...” her voice had no trace of malice.

Klaus knew he should refuse. And yet, something about his sister’s tearful eyes convinced him. Klaus nodded and smiled as he left the room. There were many preparations to be made. First, the protection spells for Elena and his brothers. For as much as he loved Rebekah, Klaus did not want her undaggering their brother. Not yet, at least...

Though, his mind quickly drifted away from such thoughts. Klaus felt a hollowness taking over his chest. He did not miss Mikael or felt sorry that his father was gone for good. Why would he? And yet… his mind was drowned by memories of Mikael. Although the terrible ones were far more than many, the few good ones—now distant and almost forgotten—caught his attention. Mostly because it was painful to remember them, but also because he felt as though the simple act of remembering was a transgression. Klaus was not supposed to remember all the times his father kissed his forehead or messed gently with his hair. Klaus should not remember all the nights he fell asleep in his father’s arms after Mikael had told them stories about his Gods and his home. A vicious voice in the back of his mind warmed Klaus of the dangers of such memories. Some force of Nature did not want him to remember. And, after a thousand years, remembering Mikael’s love for him would only ever bring Klaus pain and misery. Perhaps it was part of their tragedy…

A sigh cut his breath as he tried to control his thoughts. I’ll talk it over with Camille later, Klaus concluded haphazardly as he strolled down the stairs.

Camille felt a hand wrapped around her arm just before she entered the Compound. When she turned to face whoever grabbed her, another hand fell over her mouth. Her mind was quickly pulled into darkness.


	5. the two hunters and the sleeping monster

_Breaking and entering_ , Hunter thought as he magically opened the gates to the Mystic Fall’s cemetery, _that’s something Mika and I haven’t done since 1965._ A smile shaped his lips as he strolled through the graveyard.

It had taken him three months just to get ready to head to Mystic Falls. After Freaky Nicky left, it seemed all crises happened: two rogue vampires here, three mad werewolves there, five revengeful spirits, even a demon! And so many goddamn cursed objects he didn’t even bother to count. (Not to mention a young witch from New Orleans, he helped get out of limbo. Although, that was a bit of an accident).

He tried calling the other members of the Family for help. But he knew it was not much use. Much of the hunters Mikael had personally trained were already too old to help much. And the new generations—for as great and fun as they were in the Sunday night dinners—, didn’t do much hunting either. Besides, his favorite cousins: Maria and Luiza Salazar, Keelin, and Francisco were too busy to help.

Maria and Luisa had their plate full with the kids and the whole homophobic thing going on in Poland. Hunter knew Mikael would go to Poland and do a bit of a ‘let’s fix this shit’ once he was back. Still, Hunter made a mental note not to give them more problems.

Keelin, on the other hand, was busy managing all the Family’s properties on her own. Hunter felt sorry for her. Even though he knew it was only temporary. Once her brother Juan and his husband Sebastian came back from their honeymoon, she could go back to her life (she was almost graduating from medical school). Still, Keelin would have to put with Mikael’s assistant, Marius, for at least three months. Neither Hunter nor Mikael would ever wish such a fate upon their worst enemies. “Not even to Niklaus”, Mikael had said once, after one too many bottles of vodka.

Hunter sighed, annoyed just by thinking of how Marius almost drove him to madness during Juan and Sebastian’s wedding... _And he wasn’t there._ The thought burned Hunter’s mind. They all had hoped Mikael would show up in time for the wedding. But he didn’t. And by every god human kind ever invented: Mikael loved the weddings....

A quiet raged burned in Hunter’s heart. Mikael’s absence made him feel hollow. Still, he knew his annoying father figure would always be back. And yet, Mikael had never put a ‘fail-safe’ spell to prevent Hunter from finding him before. It made his heart try to crawl out of his mouth. Hunter hated when Mikael refused to tell him his plans. But more than anything, he hated when Mikael left him behind to go after Klaus....

Hunter pushed his feelings of resentment to the back of his mind. _I can punch him when I find him_ , he concluded.

Hunter stretched his shoulders as he kicked open the door to the first mausoleum he saw. The drive to Mystic Falls had given him a back pain, which had already lasted for months. And he feared would last a century.

However, Mystic Falls was not so bad. Sure, it was as monotonous and as irrelevant as last week’s newspaper. Still, the place was not awful. Hunter thanked the Gods that it was a small town. But he soon realized that would not help much, considering the fail-safe. Though, if Mikael had ever taught Hunter anything, it was how to be inhumanly stubborn.

Hunter soon noticed a strange uneasiness surrounding most of the local Supernatural community. Vampires and witches strolled in and out of town, always ready for a fight. Hunter had a gut instinct that they were planning something big. He would have bothered to learn more about it, but he didn’t think it had enough ‘cartoonist evil plan’ vibes for him to get into it. He and Mikael would get to the bottom of it once Hunter found him. And then Poland and then.... then it would all be alright again....

For a moment, when Hunter first heard the desperate whispers of two vampires, he wondered if all the fuss had something to do with the doppelgänger. Hunter knew he shouldn’t be surprised if he learned that Freaky Nicky just kidnapped someone. With everything Mikael had said about Klaus throughout the years, Hunter knew he was dangerous. But he never believed the man was entirely evil (and, sometimes, he thought neither did Mikael).

However, more than anything, Hunter did not want to believe he was the reason someone lost their freedom. He tried to control his thoughts, pushing them away from dreadful conclusions. Though, a shy guilt still moved around in his chest.

 _“Where the bloody hell are you, Mika_?” Hunger cursed under his breath as he marched into another mausoleum. It was empty. He walked out, barely able to restrain himself from exploding some gravestones in his way.

As he reached the last mausoleum, a desperate anticipation drowned his every thought. He sighed before punching open the door. There was a single tomb inside. Hunter rushed to it and pushed it open.

“There you are, you fucking moron!” Hunter blurted out, his voice barely a whisper, as he saw Mikael’s face.

He leaned down and grabbed his father’s desiccated arm. Hunter looked around, trying to make sense of the spell Mikael was under. But he felt something caress his hand. Mikael’s fingers were trying to touch Hunter’s.

“Guess you can hear me, huh.” Hunter scoffed. Mikael’s fingers moved again. “Good.” Hunter pulled his hand away from Mikael.   
“Cause I just spent ten years dying to tell you—,” He blurted out, blinking madly. “That, that I fucking hate you!” He laughed bitterly. “And all your talk of ‘I’ll always be by your side to help’—that’s bullshit!” He shouted, tears burning his eyes. “You _left me! Alone! For ten fucking years, without a single word!”_ He sat down next to the tomb, breathing heavily. “I thought he killed you....” he whispered to himself.

“I needed you.” he muttered. Hunter heard Mikael’s chains rattle softly. He scoffed and glanced at the stone wall. Tears were quietly mapping his face, despite his best efforts. “Nothing bad happened.” he scoffed, as he glanced at Mikael. “If that’s what you were worried about. There wasn’t a life or death situation. But I just—,” he chuckled bitterly. “There was good stuff, you know? And I just, I just wanted to tell you about it... but you weren’t there...” he sighed. Hunter scoffed as Mikael remained silent.

“Yeah, well.” He sighed, annoyed. “I suppose I’ll just have to punch you and spit in your coffee after I wake you up, huh?” He jested, halfheartedly, cleaning his face. Hunter got up and prepared to cast a spell. He halted as a faint noise caught his attention.

Hunter scoffed. “You know, Fran, for a 900-year-old vampire, you’re terrible at lurking...” a smirk shaped his lips as Hunter turned around to face his cousin.

“You must not awake him, Hunter.” Francesco sighed. “You know he doesn’t like when we interfere with his plans.”

A dry laugher cut Hunter’s throat. “His plans?” he scoffed. “His plans of what? Staying desiccated in a mausoleum like an idiot for a hundred years?”

“You know what I mean, Hunter.” Francesco replied, reproachingly.

“No. I don’t.” Hunter snapped back. “I’m not going to just leave him rotting here.” he felt tears blurring his vision again.

Francesco sighed. “I understand how you feel, but you have to think this through. Mikael always has a reason for doing things.”

Hunter scoffed. “No.” he shook his head, his lips trembling. “I won’t abandon him like everyone else!” He felt his cheeks burning. A tremor made dust fall from the celling of the mausoleum. “Sorry.” Hunter muttered, running his hands through his hair, as the tremor stopped.

“I know where my Finn is.” Francesco blurted out after a long silence.

Hunter stared at his cousin in silence. Fran had been looking for Finn since before he meet Hunter and Mikael.

“If you need help, I’m sure Mik—,”

“Niklaus has him.” Fran continued, rage deforming his kind features. “He has kept my Finn in a box for the last 800 years.” he sighed, running his hands through his pitch dark hair. “And God only knows where the bastard put the damn coffin...” Francesco scoffed bitterly. He brushed dust off his suit as he tried to keep his calm posture intact.

“Mikael can help us track him. He’s always good with—,”

“We can’t wake him, Hunter.” Fran stepped closer to the tomb. “I’m sorry. We simply cannot.” he sighed and shook his head.

Hunter stared at him in disbelief. His eyes quickly fled to Mikael. A strange rage grew in his chest.

“How long have you know?”

“What?” Fran blinked, startled.

“You’ve known about Finn for some time, haven’t you, Fran?” Hunter smiled, a menacing calm possessing his features.

“You don’t understand—,” was all Francesco could say.

Hunter scoffed. “Yes. I do.” he raised his chin as he gazed into his cousin’s eyes. “You knew about Finn. But you were too much of a coward to do anything about it.” he chuckled scornfully. “I bet you knew about Mikael too, didn’t ya?”

“Mikael told us to—,”

“Mikael is a goddamned idiot!” Hunter laughed maniacally. “You left the man you love rotting in a coffin for centuries because you were too afraid to get into Mikaelson’s business.” he added calmly as he watched Francesco’s face drown in rage. He tilted his head back as he stepped forward. “I’m not a coward like you. I’m getting my father back today. His plans and his crazy kids can go to hell for all I care.”

Hunter turned around to continue his spell. Francesco grabbed his arm, making Hunter face him again. He was ready to drag his stupid cousin out of the mausoleum, when he halted. Adolescent voices came from nearby.

“They are talking about Mikael.” Francesco muttered. Hunter’s eyes widened. He open his mouth to protest. But Francesco knocked him unconscious. He threw Hunter’s body over his shoulders and stormed out of the cemetery.


	6. Before the curtains fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many points of view in this one.   
> Please leave kudos and comment if you are enjoying this.

**Seven hours before Davina called Cami.**

It had not been a very eventful day, so far. 

But there had been a quarrel between hybrids and vampires in a bar near the outskirts of the city the night before. Marcel heard of it first. He decided to investigate it himself. He did not want Klaus threatening to take away his vampires' freedom over some stupid bar fight.

He brought Josh along. Marcel thought he could lecture Josh on the dangers of letting Davina wander alone through the Quarter. Marcel had allowed Josh and Davina to move in together. They stayed in a small house near Kiran's church. Though, only after many promises of exemplary behavior on Davina and Josh's parts. There were, however, many rules they were supposed to follow, which they often did not. And it made Marcel quite frustrated. Davina and Josh sometimes felt guilty for disrespecting Marcel's instructions. Marcel had become an older brother figure to them. It was obvious he cared deeply about both of them.

And so Josh did not mind the scolding too much. He knew Marcel was still shaken up. Ever since it took Davina over two weeks to come back from the dead (after the Harvesting ceremony), Marcel was just overprotective of her. Davina's powers were growing oddly stronger again, and the witches of the Quarter did not seem thrilled about it. Davina had refused to say much about what happened on the Other Side. She told Cami about the screaming, and the terrible promises of pain her ancestors made to her. But Davina only told Josh about the strange encounter she had while she was dead. It still made Josh shiver.

As Marcel went on Josh nodded respectfully. He tried to distract himself with the view. Fortunately, the subject was dead by the time they arrived at the bar.

Both men felt a shiver run down their spines as they stepped inside. Dead vampires and Hybrids covered the floor. Too many bodies for 'just a bar fight'. It was the quiet aftermath of a slaughter.

"Did they kill each other?" Josh put his hand over his nose.

Marcel looked around apprehensively. "Not sure—," he halted as his eyes fell upon a strange symbol drawn in the wall with blood. Marcel's hand trembled when he grabbed Josh's arm. "Run." He whispered.

"Hello again, Marcellus." A grave voice said. "It's been sometime. But I'm glad you're alive..."

Marcel threw Josh through the wall of the bar before Josh could see the man's face.

"Run—," Marcel yelled again, just before the man broke his neck.

Josh got up, ready to rush to Marcel's aid. When a hybrid jumped over him and bit Josh's arm. The man from the bar ran to them and dragged the hybrid away from Josh.

"Now, young man," The man said as he threw the hybrid away. "You wouldn't happen to—,"

Josh tried to flee before he heard the end of the question. But another vampire snapped his neck.

***

When Josh woke up, he could feel his blood being drained. All the vervain was slowly leaving his system. He looked around lazily, feeling too weak to move. His head and wound hurt terribly; the pain blurred his vision. He felt as though he was underwater. His captors had dragged him to a dark room. Josh could hear the drumming of his heart as he tried to understand what the surrounding voices were saying. His eyes jumped hopelessly from one blurred figure to the other.

"Is it done?" the same voice from the bar echoed.

"Almost." said a young woman.

"What are we supposed to do with this one?" the hybrid asked, point a corpse Josh assumed to be Marcel.

"Nothing." said the man from the bar. "Keep him neutralized and alive somewhere."

"Why not just kill him?" asked another man, a vampire.

"Because." the man from the bar moved forward. "I said so." his voice ignited a primal fear in Josh's heart.

"It's done." the woman announced. "You can compel him now."

***

Davina had just finished making popcorn, after a long day of practicing magic, when Josh stormed into the house. She rushed to his aid. Davina laid Josh over the table. He was already sweating and close to hallucinating because of his wound. Josh blurted out the story of what had happened to him and Marcel.

"Klaus' hybrids had attached us... They killed Marcel, D.... he sent them to kil us..." his voice was a weak whisper.

Davina felt tears burning her eyes as her chest ached with rage and pain. But as she glanced at Josh, she knew there was still one friend she could save. She desperately grabbed all the spell books available and began searching for a cure. She thought werewolf venom did not work this fast.

But Davina also knew of a solution to the problem: Klaus' blood. She quickly cast a spell to slow down the venom and called Cami madly. If there's anyone who can convince Klaus to be decent, it was Cami.

Sobs cut her breath as she watched Josh's groans of pain. When Cami picked up, Davina had almost cried her voice away. Once she had finally controlled her sobs and started to explain the situation, Davina realized her spell was no longer working. Her knees shook, despair stealing the air from her lungs. Just before she could ask Cami for help, the call ended abruptly.

"Hello?" Davina cried. "Cami? Please!" she screamed as she gazed at Josh. "Please, don't leave me alone..."

"Your friend isn't looking too good, is he?" he voice came from her open door. Davina jumped up and turned to face the young dark-haired vampire. "I think could help you with that... If you're willing to give us a hand with some other things..." he smirked sweetly. "And you can get even with Klaus Mikaelson in the process." he added darkly.

Davina stared at him, uncartain. Then gazed at Josh, desperation clouded her mind. She sighed before slowly nodding .


	7. Your father's daughter

Mikael had left a note for Hunter in the mausoleum, when the Petrova woman was not watching. “Stay out of the way. Don’t die stupidly.” he wrote in a small piece of paper. Mikael thought it was enough to keep Hunter out of trouble. But now, as he watched the busy streets of New Orleans, from the window of the Salvatores’ hide out, Mikael wondered. _If I die tonight, t_ he thought cross his mind, _will he think I wrote too little?_ A quiet feeling of regret rattled in his chest. _No,_ he forced himself to think _, the boy knows better…._

A noise came from the other side of the room and pulled Mikael away from his spiraling thoughts. His daughter stormed into the living room, rage contorting her face and blinding her vision. She sat down near the fireplace, barely noticing her father.

“Rebekah.” Mikael muttered in disbelief. He strolled to her side, uncertain, though concerned.

“Whatever fatherly rubbish you’re thinking, save it.” She said dryly, without looking up. “Nothing you say matters to me.”

“I see.” Mikael sighed, as he gazed into the fire “Where’s the dagger?” he added, awkwardly, as he studied her posture.

“The Salvatores have it.” She replied, tilting her back and fixing her wrathful gaze on Mikael. “So you can forget your plans of using it on me.”

“You were never the one I was after.” Mikael said promptly. His voice low and shy.

“Nik was my family.” Rebekah snapped back, her voice breaking with rage. “If you were after him, you were after me.”

Mikael scoffed. “He killed your mother!”

“I know what he did.” She cried. “And he’ll pay for his sin with his life.” Rebekah jumped up and marched to her father. “But Nik was not born a killer.” She raised her chin as she stepped closer to Mikael. “None of us were. You did this to us when you turned us into vampires.” Her voice and gaze were drowning in hate. Mikael glanced away, unable to look his daughter in the eye.

She scoffed bitterly. “You destroyed our family. Not him.” Rebekah breathed heavily as she turned to leave.

“I know.” Mikael blurted out just before his daughter left the room.

Rebekah froze. She stood there, unable to leave and unable to turn and face her father. Mikael stared at the back of his daughter’s head. He halfheartedly begged her to turn around and yet dreaded the sight of her doing so.

“I know I failed you, my girl.” Mikael sighed. “I failed all of you, my children. I even failed Nik—,” he scoffed. “But you’re right, Rebekah. Nothing I say now will matter to any of you.” He turned to face the fireplace.

Rebekah turned to face Mikael, warm tears mapping her face. Her father did not glance at her. But, for a moment, she thought his eyes held something of regret in them.

“There’s no amount of pretty words that will make all your sufferings disappear.” He went on, his voice calm and low. “And even if there were,” he chuckled, “I believe we can both agree I was never one to know how to make pretty speeches…”

“Why are you bothering with it, then?” Rebekah raised her chin, trying to hold back tears, but failing miserably.

“Because you deserved better. All of you.” Mikael glances at his daughter. “And because—,” he gazed at the window. “I have a feeling it will be over tonight. All of it.” He sighed. “Either I kill Klaus or he kills me. One way or another, it will finally be over…”

Rebekah stared at him. She never wondered if Mikael enjoyed tormenting Klaus. She knew he was cruel, but she never thought about what he gained from their suffering. Though, she was mildly glad to know he wasn’t happy with his hunt. The only reason she could ever come up with for his actions was pride. Mikael’s pride was his downfall; it was what made him hate the son he once loved and terrorize the children he said he would die to protect.

But, now, as Rebekah studied his face, she realized it could not possibly had been pride. No. A prideful warrior would never accept defeat. It had to be something else.

Besides, the thought crossed her mind, he looks so bloody tired...

“I never thought I would hear you say something like that.” she whispered to herself. “You talk as though dying would be ann acceptable outcome…”

Mikael chuckled. “It is.” He gazes at his daughter just in time to see her awed expression. “I should not have lived this long, Rebekah.” He smiled bitterly. “Gods. I never wished to live a day longer than your mother…” he sighed.

Rebekah gazed at him, perplexed. The sincerity in his voice threw her off guard. She expected anything from Mikael, but some sob story about how he loved their mother. She already knew Mikael loved Esther. But it was before he knew of her transgression... the idea that her father kept on loving her mother even after everything, somehow, warmed her heart.

Though, it also ignited a strange new form of rage in her heart.

“Am I supposed to feel sorry for you?” She snapped as her rage grew stronger. “You made us miserable for a thousand years, all because of your broken heart?” She scoffed “What about us? Our happiness?” Sobs cut her breath. “What about Nik’s heart? Every time you showed up, just your presence almost ripped it from his chest!” she cried. Memories of her brother’s terrified face plagued her mind. “What about when we were children?” she continued miserably. “You always scared him—all of us. Nik cried in his sleep everything you yelled at him. And you knew about it!”

Mikael remained quiet. Though, a new emotion contorted his face. A gasp escaped Rebekah’s lips. Her rage slowly dying out, a hollowness taking over her heart. I have never seen his face like this; she concluded numbly, so full of, of shame....

“I failed him.” He whispered. The words seem to burn his mouth. For an instant, Rebekah thought tears were shining in his eyes.

“You are not supposed to feel anything towards me other than hatred.” he went on, barely able to keep his voice steady. “I understand that. I’m not asking you to forgive, Rebekah.” his lips trembled as he avoided her gaze.

“What are you asking then?” Rebekah cried, feeling sobs threatening to cut her breath.

“I’m asking you to be happy, my girl.” Mikael looked up. His eyes filled with undeniable regret. He tried to smile.

“What?” the words left her lips softly; drowned by disbelief.

Mikael sighed. “I was a selfish father, Rebekah. If there is anything I learned over the years, it was that.” He chuckled as he blinked. “I knew I had only three tasks as your father: keep you alive, teach you to survive, and make sure you all were happy. But—,” his eyes drifted, a tearful light shone in them. “I forsake one of my duties, because I thought—I was scared—that I wasn’t strong enough to manage all three and…” he glance at her. “I told myself it was best to see you all crying in your sleep than dead in the ground.” He sighed as he ran his fingers through his hair. “I never gave you a choice about your life. And you deserve it—a choice. Just as you deserve to be happy.”

Rebekah opened her mouth, but found she had lost her voice. She stared at Mikael. His tearful gaze seemed too impossible to be real…

“It’s time.” Stefen called as he burst into the room.

“Well,” Mikael sighed as passed his hand over his mouth and eyes. “Goodbye, my girl...” he blurted out shyly, almost raising his hand to wave. But deciding against it. He nodded and smiled softly at his daughter. Mikael followed Stefan out of the room.

They left Rebekah alone. She did not realize she was sobbing until Caroline walked in.

“What’s wrong?.” She asked, startled. “Is Klaus already—,” Rebekah broke her neck.

She sat down and went back to crying. If Mikael really regretted his actions, why would he be here, trying to kill Klaus? Was her last coherent thought before her mind descended in chaos.


	8. Betrayal before cocktails

Klaus dialed his sister’s phone number for the tenth time since he arrived at the plantation house.

“Rebekah.” He said as she did not answer. “I know you aren’t familiar with this new technology.” He went on, annoyed. “But when you see my name on the phone, _you pick it up._ ” He sighed as a young hybrid rushed awkwardly in his direction.

“Sir.” the hybrid said shyly. “There’s a man at the door.” the poor thing was shaking. “They said his name is Mikael.”

Klaus chuckled. “Well, I must not keep my father waiting, then.” he strolled after the hybrid, a victorious smile stamped on his face. 

“There you are!” Klaus called cheerfully, as he strolled into the parlor and saw Rebekah standing next to a closed coffin. “I was thinking you’d miss our father’s wake.” he sighed, an enormous smile stamped on his face as his eyes stared at the coffin. “I’ve planned this for over a thousand years, you know.” He muttered darkly, pressing his hand against the coffin. “Mikael’s funeral...” a sad light passed through his face, all traces of victory erased.

“Where are our brothers?” Rebekah’s voice trembled. She stared at the floor, unable to face her brother with her tearful red eyes. 

Klaus shrugged. “I had Gloria put a spell in their room.” He declared haphazardly. “It should keep any curious beings out of there.” Klaus smiled at his sister. Though, his face soon became serious as he studied Rebekah’s strange behavior.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, moving closer to her. 

Tears mapped her face. He gently touched her shoulder. She flinched. Klaus sighed.

“Bekah,” he began in a soft, though reproaching tone. “If this is about Marcel—He didn’t come after us—truly it’s his—,”

“I know what you did.” She blurted out, raising her eyes to meet her brother’s. Rebekah’s wrathful gazed fixed on Klaus. 

He sighed, stepping back. “Rebekah, I—,” 

“I believed you.” her voice was a dreadful whisper. “For a thousand years, I stood by you.” She shouted, tears plagued her eyes. “Not Elijah, not anyone, but me!” 

Klaus stared at his sister in shock. He opened and closed his mouth. “Rebekah,” he began uncertainly, “If this—Stefan wasn’t all that —,”

“You lied to me!” Rebekah shouted, sobs threatening to cut her breath. “For years I blamed him when, when,” she raised her hand, revealing the blood-stained dagger. “When _you_ killed her...” she stepped forward, rage devouring her breath. “Our own mother!”

“Rebekah.” A gasp left Klaus’ lips as he stared at his sister. 

She took off the dagger, was all he could think. Klaus pushed open the coffin. It was empty. With shaking knees, he grabbed his sister’s arms.

“Where is he?” He yelled in despair.

She did not answer. She had her eyes fixed on the floor. Pain and rage contorted her face. Klaus shock her.

“Tell me!” he felt tears clouding his vision. “I’ll forgive you—just tell me—,” he lied, desperation emptying his mind. “Where is he, Bekah?” his voice was an unsteady whisper. 

“I’m sorry, Nik.” she muttered, shaking her head. Sobs took over her breath.

“You’re not my sister.” Klaus whispered in anger. 

Rebekah glanced at her brother. With a swift move, Klaus steals the dagger from her. He carved it in his sister’s chest, as tears fell from his eyes. 

His sister’s skin slowly turned gray. Rebekah’s body made a dry sound as it hit the ground. Klaus stared at her, breathing heavily. He blinked and cleaned his face before glancing at the coffin again. Klaus sighed, as move to put his sister in the empty coffin.

The sudden realization he was not alone made him halt. He glanced around to see his hybrids. At least a hundred of them were trying to crawl into the parlor. 

“What is this—,” he asked, trying desperately to compose himself. 

A howl scream left his lips as he felt an unexpected pain in his chest. The swarm of hybrids jumped on him, pushing Klaus closer to the open door. He ripped some of them apart, but more kept coming. With his back to the door, Klaus stared wrathfully at the wall of hybrids, which stood between him and the rest of the house. All of them had some improvised weapons. 

Klaus chuckled bitterly. “Is this all you have?” He barked. 

A few daring hybrids exchanged looks and stepped closer to him.

“Don’t touch him!” A voice called from behind Klaus. “He’s mine.”

Klaus felt his knees almost giving in as he turned around. All the air in the world deserted his lungs. As he stared at his father, Klaus felt the wall of hybrids behind him, ready to push him out of the door. 

“Hello, Niklaus.” Mikael said with a smile as his gaze met Klaus’.

Klaus thought his voice had died in his throat. But soon found the hollow space in his chest was quickly being filled with rage. Klaus raised his chin as he stared into Mikael’s terrifying blue eyes.

_Tonight,_ the thought crossed the minds of both father and son, _it will all be over…_


	9. Kill the beast

A Mikael strolled through the front yard, his knees trembled. He watched from afar, through the open door, as Klaus carved a dagger into his daughter’s chest. Mikael felt his own chest getting heavier. Mikael’s eyes shined tearfully as they pushed Klaus back.

 _Oh, my sweet boy_ , the thought lingered in his mind as he approached the house, _what kind of monster have I made you into?_

Mikael took a sharp breath as he reached the steps of the balcony. _Just one moment,_ he repeated numbly _. My boy is fast—he’s stronger now,_ he told himself, though fear blinded his vision. _Just hold down the beast for a moment…_

“Is this all you have?” Mikael heard Klaus yell as he reached the door.

_Just one moment of hesitation._ Mikael prayed quietly to his Gods, as his mind racing to the terrible insults he would shove down his son’s throat. _Just this last time._ He told the hybrids to back down, feeling himself losing control. Klaus turned to face him. _Gods, please let this be over. Let him win…._ the thought lingered longer. But soon an alien rage took over his mind.

“Hello, Mikael.” Klaus spitted his father’s name. He glanced over his shoulder. “I see you have compelled my hybrids.” he gazed wrathful at Mikael. “Well, no matter.” he raised his chin. “The sire bond is stronger than your compulsion, father.” he declared, “They’ll soon be back to normal and then I’ll tell them to tear you apart.” he smiled scornfully, but uncertainty plagued his voice. “I’d invite you in, but I have to get my house in order first.” Klaus jested, trying to control his trembling lips.

“I did not compel them, boy.” Mikael said, a maniacal smile on his lips. “You simply overestimated your _bond,_ while underestimating the consequences of your cruelty…”

“Cruelty!” Klaus hissed. “You’re one to talk, aren’t you father?” he spitted the words, feeling his cheeks burning. “I don’t need them.” Klaus blurted out, tears shining in his eyes. “I just need to get rid of you!”

“To what end, Niklaus?” Mikael asked, exasperated. “So you can live forever, with no one by your side?” his voice shook with anger. “Not even your dear sister cares about you now. No one does!” he paused as he glanced at his son’s tearful face. “No one.” he could see his words cutting through Klaus’ heart. “You are alone now, boy.” he sighed. “Always and forever…”

“All my life, you’ve underestimated me, father.” Klaus blurted out, trying to hold back his tears, though failing miserably. “No more.” he raised his chin. “I’m no longer the weakling you always thought me to be.” he controlled a sob that threatened to cut his breath. “I’m no longer the beaten dog who kept begging for scraps of your affection!” he stepped forward. “I’m a hybrid now, father.” a vicious smile shaped his lips. “And once I’m done with them,” he glanced over his shoulder. “I’ll enjoy watching you being ripped apart, limb from limb.”

Mikael scoffed. “I should have known you wouldn’t stop hiding behind your playthings.” He said scornfully, as he stepped back. “Always with the scheming and always a little coward.” Bitterness drowned his voice. “Always my greatest shame… Your impulsive behavior always keeping you from being truly great…” he chuckled bitterly, studying his son’s face.

“Well, father,” Klaus blurted out, his voice breaking as his mind raced to an escape route, should he need it. “Perhaps you will not think me so impulsive when I’m slowly gutting you over and over…”

Mikael scoffed. “For Gods’ sake, Niklaus.” He blurted out, exasperated. “For once in your life, be the man I raised to be. Have dignity.” He said under his breath, his eyes suddenly filled with dread. “Come out and face me, boy.” He commanded, tilting his head back. “Or your puppies will drag you out.”

Mikael pulled the White Oak stake from his coat. Klaus nervously glanced back again as some hybrids stepped forward. He felt his voice dying when he turned to face his father. Shivers ran down his spine as he opened his mouth, a half thought reply burning his tongue. 

A high-pitched sound cut through the air. All the hybrids and vampires covered their ears. The sound filled their heads with pain. 

In the confusion, Mikael partly regained control of his mind. A voice screamed from within him. He purposefully dropped the Stake to the ground. And begged all his Gods to aid his son. 

Just as silence fell over them, Mikael felt a familiar set of eyes upon him. He glanced to his right and stumbled backwards. A smile shaped his mouth.

“Hunter…” His words barely left his lips. He thought his son smiled back at him. 

As soon as his eyes found the stake, Klaus grabbed it. His father’s cruel words burned his mind as Klaus jumped over Mikael. They both fell to the ground. The hybrids ran out, surrounding the two Originals as they fought. Though, none had the courage to step forward and help the Destroyer kill their maker.

Klaus had the White Oak Stake pressed against Mikael’s chest. Klaus had carved part of it into his father’s body when he jumped over Mikael. But now, as Klaus desperately tried to push the Stake into Mikael’s heart, his father held the stake back.

With one hand carve into Klaus’ shoulder and the other wrapped around the stake, Mikael watched as his son struggled to keep him down. Mikael took a deep breath as he forced his rage away from his heart. The sight of Hunter, even if just for a moment— _even if the stubborn boy wasn’t even there_ —, was enough to give Mikael hope. 

A gasp left Klaus’ lips as his father let go of the White Oak Stake. It ran through Mikael’s heart. The Destroyer held back a scream as pain dissolved his senses.

As his father’s skin turned gray, Klaus felt Mikael’s grip around his shoulder softened. To his great surprise, Klaus felt Mikael gently touch his face. His entire body tensed at his father’s touch. Flames took over Mikael’s chest. Just before they consumed his body, Klaus gazed at Mikael’s face. A tender smile played on Mikael’s lips as his hand fell from his son’s cheek. 

Klaus only got up once he felt his own hands burning. By then, Mikael’s body was covered in flames. Klaus felt a lump in his throat as a strange hollowness took over his chest. He begged the air to return to his lungs, but it refused. His knees were still shaking as he uncertainly stepped away from the body. _He is dead_ , he thought, with more pain than ecstasy _, the beast is dead…_

Klaus did not realize he was close to sobbing until one of the more brave (and drunk) hybrids hit him with a piece of wood. Klaus grabbed the hybrid by his neck and ripped him to shreds. The others soon ran for their lives. 

_No matter_ , Klaus thought as he ran after them, _I’ll find them_. Memories of his father flooded his mind. 

“I’ll kill every last one of them… _”_ he screamed at the top of his lungs as his hand ripped apart another one of his creations. _And then I’ll make more and, and…_ his thoughts halted. _After this, nothing matters._ He raised his eyes to the sky as he crushed a heart in his hand. _I’ll have everything…_

Klaus strolled into the night. His vision blinded by rage and his senses numb with sorrow. 


	10. You’re rearranging chair on the deck of the Titanic, my boy

Hunter knew Mikael would never forgive him for interfering with his hunt. Or at least, that was what he always said. Though Hunter had messed around a few times and it only ever got him a somewhat quick scolding. Sure, he had never interfered so directly, but Hunter was certain it would not be too much of an issue. Or at least, he hoped it wouldn't.

Hunter's hands were shaking when the spell transported him to a strange porch. He felt lightheaded as his eyes found Mikael. Hunter listened to his father's cruel words. He had never seen Mikael talking to Klaus. He felt a lump in his throat. His father sounded different from when he talked to Hunter.

_Even after wars, Mikael never sounded so vicious.... maniacal...._ Hunter forced himself to push the thought out of his head. He stepped forward and prepared to do one more spell.

_It has to be alright_ , Hunter concluded. The screamed left his lips soon after. It worked perfectly, just as he had planned. The Vampire and Hybrids fell to the ground. In the chaos, a warmth possessed Hunter's chest.

_It will be alright_. The thought lingered longer, _why wouldn't it be?_ After all, Mikael had smiled when he saw Hunter. His father dropped his most sacred weapon after he saw him...

Still, they didn't have much time. The spell would soon wear off. It was a miracle he and Francesco had done the spell at all. Hunter had to get Mikael out of there. He was sure it would take lots of magic and convincing (perhaps even a miracle) to make Mikael leave. But as Hunter watched his father's face get brighter in the brief time their eyes met, he was sure he could do it. They'd all be home in no time.

But then...

The floor dissolved from underneath him.

Francesco jumped over him, breaking the spell. He then dragged Hunter to bed of their hotel room and made him sit down. Though, Hunter could still smell the flames.

His lips and hands trembled as though he was about to start one of his "little earthquakes". Francesco was scared Hunter would bring down the building. But Hunter was having a hard time breathing; he did not even consider using his powers. He sat on the bed, quiet and still.

Hunter had seen Mikael get hurt many times through the centuries. He had thought Mikael to be dead fewer times. But it happened. Now, however, his mind could only think about his father's burning body.

_Mikael can survive everything_ , was Hunter's first coherent thought after what had felt like an eternity of silent dread. He only barely managed to take his mind off the flames.

He, like all of Mikael's children (biological or otherwise), held the belief that Mikael could withstand anything. Still, some sparse images of Mikael almost losing some fights quickly passed through his mind. But in all such instances, almost was the prevailing word.

Mikael was always drunk on those occasions. When he was sober, the fights were much quicker. Mikael rarely started fights, though he always loved to swipe in and end the discussion. Especially when one or all parties involved were somehow annoying. Considering how temperamental Mikael could be and how he based much of his personality on his warrior's skills, Hunter always found it funny to watch Mikael after a fight. Mikael never gloated. Hunter always half expected him too, but he never did. The most he would do was let a half smile play on his lips after the fight. Still, only briefly, as though he was afraid to gloat. Mikael was often proud of himself, but only when he had fought to help someone.

When the fighting was only about his own annoyance at others, he almost looked ashamed. His eyes changed in those moments; as though something savage from within him was trying to get out. And Mikael would rather die before he let such a thing happen. Hunter never asked him about it. He had asked about everything. But he knew better.

And, besides, Hunter's favorite 'bar fight' story involved Mikael losing control. It happened in Italy, during the early 1500s. Mikael had not heard of Freaky Nicky of some time. Still, after leaving Hunter alone in a dirty tavern, Mikael had gotten himself in a fight with a witch. She somehow managed to de-age the Viking, turning Mikael into a twelve-year-old version of himself.

Hunter could not breathe for solid ten minutes after he first saw Mikael. He knew children are not tall or strong. But he was not prepared to see just how adorable Mikael was as a child. He was a short and scrawny kid, with big blue eyes, very messy hair and thin red lips. The sort ofchild who could easily serve as a model for one of those paintings with angels and such things, Hunter had thought at the time, with a big grin shaped his lips. It had taken Hunter all of his strength to fight the urge to stroke Mikael's curly blond hair.

Hunter had always thought Mikael's short temper resulted from his years as a warrior and as a father of six (in Mikael's words) "foolish, impulsive, stubborn and damn near suicidal" children. And yet, Hunter was barely surprised when "little Mikael" stabbed the tavern table—ever so dramatically. Mikael then jumped over three men, who were twice his size and had been annoying a young servant boy. He fought ferociously—kicking and punching like a mad squirrel.

Hunter laughed, but got up to drag Mikael away from the fight before he got hurt. Though, he should not have even bothered. Mikael had thrown all three men off his feet before Hunter had stopped laughing. Even if impressed, Hunter was not even surprised. Although, later on, he remarked that Mikael had not used very "honorable" fighting techniques to win the fight. Mikael eyed him, annoyed, but said nothing of it. Still, a soft smile shaped his lips...

_So he was always like that_ , Hunter remembered concluding. _He's always been a hotheaded mess..._

_But he grew out of it,_ Hunter thought numbly as Fran handed him some water. _Mikael is not as reckless and impulsive as he was in his youth..._ Hunter concluded, running his hand over his arm-ring. He felt his heart sinking in his chest. Mikael had given it to Hunter when he came of age. It was a ritual of passage; it meant Mikael would treat Hunter as an equal from then on. Mikael had an entire speech prepared for the occasion. He went on about courage, responsibility and "picking your battles".

" _This will keep you safe,_ " Mikael had said. " _For as long as you wear it_." Hunter always rememberers fondly the way Mikael had touched his shoulder. " _But it doesn't mean you should go around getting into trouble,_ " was his father's main conclusion. " _Just because you won't die, does not mean you can be stupid, boy!"_

A small smile played on Hunter's lips as he remembers his father's speech. He wondered if Mikael had practice on the mirror or if he had given his children a similar speech before. Although, Hunter would rather think Mikael's speech was unique to him. Though, the idea Mikael loved him as he loved his own children (which Hunter knew he loved tremendously), always warmed Hunter's heart.

Hunter sighed. The nice memories had drowned his mind so far. But what would he do if memories were all he had left? His heart jumped around in his chest. Tears slowly making their way to his eyes.

"No." Hunter muttered to himself. "Mikael has to be alive." He forced himself to conclude. "He can survive anything..."

Still, a vicious voice screamed within him: _Mikael cannot survive Niklaus_. If any other of his children had been the one to carve the Stake in his heart, he would not have died. Hunter was sure he would have, somehow, pulled something off. Mikael would have survived. _But not Klaus..._

Mikael barely ever survived talking about Niklaus. In a thousand years, he only ever told the entire story once. To Hunter. He was the only one who knew how much Mikael still loved his son. Though Mikael could not help himself and cursed Hunter to forget the story. Still, Hunter remembered bits and pieces.

Hunter sometimes joked about Klaus, trying to get Mikael to talk more about him. It only ever worked when Mikael was drunk. He would laugh softly at Hunter's joked and, occasionally, say a thing or two about how Klaus was foolish and reckless and how it all almost drove him mad. But then, he would go quiet. Dreadfully quiet. Then, his eyes were lost to memories of a past he longed to have back.

Hunter could see how broken and tired Mikael always was after his hunt. After he had seen his children again. And yet, he knew better than to ask Mikael to stop looking for Klaus.

_Mikael can survive everything_ , Hunter tried to remember his father's strength. _But never Niklaus..._

Hunter sat on the bed, staring at the dirty blue wall. He heard Fran say something. It sounded important. But he could not make out the words. Francesco left soon afterwards.

Hunter kept fidgeting with the note Mikael had written him. It would have become a wrinkled mess if Hunter had not enchanted it. At first, it had enraged him. _After ten years, Mikael had the nerve to only leave a note_ , Hunter brooded over it for hours. But now the small piece of paper brought him some comfort.

_It's too little_ , he repeated numbly. _If Mikael knew he'd die_ , the thought burning his mind, _he would've written more._

"Mikael is not dead," he muttered softly, almost as a prayer. "I'd know if he was." his fingers ran to his arm ring. "I'd feel it in my bones..."

Memories of Mikael flooded his mind, and tears blurred his vision. With a swift move, Hunter got up and stormed out of the room.

"I'll be dammed," he muttered, as the chilly evening air greeted his lungs. "If I let him die," a soft smile shaped his lips, "before I had time to kill him myself..." his blue eyes shined with a devilish yellow glow.


	11. What would Hell be, my love, if not a desert?

**The Other Side.**

It was a dreadful place. Though, what else could one expect from Hell itself?

A never ending yellow light irradiated from the pitch dark sky. There were no stars to be seen. Not even the sun. The place should have been scalding. Or warm, at the very least. But it was not. There was always a chill in the air. There was always a quiet shiver of anticipation, as the unforgiving sand devoured the forgotten idols of humanity.

Of all things, what Mikael hated most was the sand banks. And yet, he could not deny the beauty of his surroundings. It was asphyxiating and very appropriate for a place of eternal torment. Still, he hated how the inexistent wind raised the sand into the air, revealing the remains of fallen Empires, only for it to be devoured the next instant.

Mikael always fought to find a safe heaven, a place to sit and take his feet off the sandy ground. This time it was a medieval fallen column. But he knew his refuge would soon be devoured too.

As he watched the wind uncover a burned cathedral, Mikael felt a hand softly touching his shoulder. His eyes widened as Esther sat beside him. She never came looking for him when he died. He always resented her for such neglect. Though, as her hand fell over his, he studied sorrows expression.

"The spell is almost ready." She declared, her eyes fixed on the horizon. "I'll be back with them soon." She sighed, a small smile shaping her lips.

Mikael sighed, looking away from his wife. He fidgeted with his arm ring.

"It's a wretched idea, my love." He muttered, uncertainly.

"They need us." She urged, squeezing his hand. "Our children need us, Mikael."

He chuckled. "They aren't children anymore, love." he sighed softly, biting his lip. "They haven't been in such a long time..."

She scoffed. "They will always be our children." Her voice was an angry whisper.

Mikael shrugged. In the distance, an airplane appeared on the top of a dune. They both watched in silence as it slid down a valley. Soon, it was gone.

"What about that boy you have?" Esther asked abruptly. Her voice was high and sweet. Though her eyes jumped around, nervously.

Esther glanced furtively at her husband, studying his changed expression. Though, she should have known better. As soon as her eyes fell upon his face, memories of their life together flooded her mind. She had forgotten how beautiful he was when his eyes were lost in thought. _Oh, what I wouldn't give_ , she pondered despite her best efforts, _to kiss his lips one last time..._

Still, his serious posture reminded her of the nights before a battle, when he stayed up, gazing into the fire. Esther felt as though a knife was cutting through her heart. The memories of children, of little Elijah, Niklaus and Kol crawling over their father's lap, took her breath away. The larger smile on Mikael's lips when his sons fell asleep with their heads rested over his chest... Esther was sure the memories would kill her.

"What about him?" He replied, shifting in his sit. Mikael's lips were contorted into a tense line. His eyes fixed on the changing ruins ahead, as though he feared facing his wife.

"Won't he worry?" She went on, awkwardly. Her mind still half lost in remembrance.

Mikael scoffed. "The boy knows better." A smiled played on his lips, but a shadow passed through his eyes.

Esther shrugged. A high metal tower appeared in front of them. Esther bit her lower lip as she watched it fall.

"Have you never wondered—," she began, uncertainly. "Who the boy's family is?" Esther did her best to hide any hints of jealousy in her voice.

She had not been present when Mikael "found" Hunter. She was watching over their children; weeping over the mistakes they made and cursing herself for her sins. Then, suddenly, her husband had a new son who he loved and treasured. _Gods_ , Esther thought more frequently than she liked to admit _, a child he raised better than our children!_ And yet, she had to come to terms with Mikael's love for the boy. Part of her—a small and sorrowful part—appreciated the influence Hunter had over Mikael. For over a thousand years, the stubbornly sweet boy was the only one who could carve a laugh out of her husband's lips.

"No." Mikael blurted out, his mouth twitching slightly. "The boy is mine." He declared, a strange solemnity dwelling on his voice.

Esther scoffed, but restrained herself from asking any more questions. She knew jealousy would drown her every word if she tried to continue on the matter. Everything about Mikael's posture seemed to deny the idea that the boy was his by blood. And yet, he seemed afraid to confirm such a theory. Although, he needed to deny all possibilities of the boy not being his own.

 _He is in denial,_ she concluded, triumphantly. Esther was aware that not even Hunter knew about his true parentage.

Though, perhaps she was the one in denial. Esther's heart broke with the mere idea of Mikael loving another as he had loved her. It was selfish, and she knew it. Perhaps it would have been better if he had moved on with his life... But their story could not end in such a way. His promises of love were still fresh in her mind, and Mikael rarely broke his promises...

Besides, Esther knew her husband would die a thousand times before he gave up on their family.... _But he already has_ , a voice whispered from within her. Esther desperately tried to remember how many times her husband had been to Hell for their children. How many times she had watched Mikael carved a stake into his own heart? How many times had he begged his Gods for forgiveness as he failed to die...

Her heart sunk in her chest. Rebellious tears threatening her eyes.

The two of them sat in silence. They watched as castles raised from the ground, strong and magnificent, only crumbled to pieces—as if the Devil had made them out of sand.

Esther sighed. "It's time." She glanced at her husband, quietly begging him to take her hand into his.

Mikael frowned. But he took her hand and pressed it over his lips. Esther could not help but smile. A warm feeling filled her chest.

"Will we remember this, my love?" He asked. His voice low and tender.

Esther scoffed. "Why would you want to remember Hell, my darling?" A smile still shaped her lips.

Mikael chuckled. "I believe that I should," he sighed, his eyes shined with a tearful light. "I deserve to..."

Esther's hand flew to his shoulder. She opened her mouth. All she wanted was to comfort him, reassure Mikael he was not a monster. And yet, she found no words to do so. How could she? It would be a lie to tell Mikael he did not deserve Hell for his actions. But she was no saint herself. And yet, who decided what their punishment should be?

"Come with me." She blurted out, her eyes blurred by tears. "We, we can fix it—," she urged, with a breaking voice and trembling lips. "We can be a family—,"

"No." He mumbled softly. He glanced at her, a smile playing on his lips. "I'd like to stay here..." he sighed, his shining eyes running back to the horizon.

Esther sighed. "You know," she began, trying to control the bitterness in her voice. "Nature will never let you stay here, Mikael..." she declared, darkly.

Esther half expected Mikael to turn and face her again. This time with a defiant expression. She wanted to believe she could use his stubbornness—as she often used to. She could convince him; talk him out of his ways. Esther held such belief close to her heart and did not wish to forsake it.

And yet, Mikael did not turn to face her. He smiled as he raised her hand to his lips one more time.

"I know," he muttered, as he kissed her hand. "But still..." his eyes shined with a restless light as he watched the wretched horizon.

Esther felt her heart falling, as it had more than a thousand years before. A distant memory of her husband's eager eyes, as he watched the sea in wonder—long before any lines marked his face—, crawled into her mind.

With a swift move, she kissed his cheek. "I love you," she tried to mutter, as magic pulled her soul into life.

Mikael's heart rattled in his chest. He jolted and turned around to face his wife. A broken _'I love you'_ burned in his tongue. But it died before it left his lips. Mikael blinked, feeling the sand devouring him. Esther is gone. The realization consumed him.

The sand seemed to catch up on his loneliness. The Devil—ever so kind—always liked to play with the old Viking. From underneath Mikael, the column—his heaven—crumpled quietly. Mikael soon found himself sitting on his father's old throne.

The sand raised him to the top of a dune. As Mikael glanced down he saw the bloodstained crowns and swords he gained over his years of conquests.

In front of him, the sand revealed his victories: the walls of cities Mikael conquered for his father, the castles he burned down, the mountains he climbed. All of it. The empire Mikael built with his blood, but never inherit. But why would he? It was Stoick's Empire, and Mikael's father hated sharing air with others. Why would Stoick ever let his first-born son inherit his greatest achievements?

_No_ , Mikael concluded darkly, as he always did, _My father always meant for me to be the proud heir of_ , he chuckled bitterly. _Nothing in particular..._

Still, as his eyes swept through the ruins of his life, he smiled. Losing his empire was not his greatest failure.

In the distance, he caught sight of their small hut in the New World. Laughter echoed from it. Soon, what Mikael dreaded the most happened: memories flooded his mind. He could hear his children's voices:

" _Father! Father!" They would run up to him as he arrived home after a long hunt. "We missed you!" They would always say._

_Niklaus always arrived first, and Mikael could not help loving his boy more for it. Klaus would_ quickly _wrap his arms around his father's waist, as though he was afraid the others would steal his father from him. Mikael always hugged him back, just as tightly, and thanked all his Gods for keeping his impulsive little boy safe while he was gone._

_Elijah always came soon afterwards. Though, he would stand quietly aside, waiting as Kol and Rebekah ran up to their father. If any other child did such a thing, Mikael would have thought they did not want to hug him. But he knew better than to think that of Elijah. His son always beamed like a fool when Mikael pulled him into a half hug, while Niklaus still refused to let go of Mikael's waist._

_However, Mikael never second guessed the excitement of Kol and Rebekah. His younger ones always had their hands shot up in the air, begging Mikael to take them in his arms. He always raised Rebekah first—since she was the more insistent of the two. She never wanted him to let go of her, once she settled in his arms. But he never failed to take Kol. His little wizard always seemed disappointed for not being the first to be picked up. Mikael tried to make up for that by holding him a while longer._

_Finn would always arrive last. He held Esther's hand as they walked towards Mikael. Finn was always more distant, closer with Esther than with his father. Mikael hated to admit that he was jealous, but he was. Though, Finn could never hide his excitement when his father mess gently with his hair, just before they entered their hut. Finn too beamed like a little fool when Mikael tried to hug him. It gave Mikael some comfort to know his baby boy still loved him, even if they were not close._

_And, oh, how they all shivered in anticipation when Mikael mentioned the presents he had brought for them...._

A heart-sickening hollowness rattled in Mikael's chest. He held back a scream as his face fell into his hands. Sobs cut his breath before he could control himself. He slowly raised his eyes to the pitch dark sky. A shiver ran down his spine as he took a sharp breath. Mikael was ready to yell, to dare the Devil to come face him, to crawl his way back to the world of the living. He would even beg, if he had to. He would have done anything. What he could not bear to do was listen to their voices for another second.

When his throne crumpled from underneath him, Mikael felt a breath of life being shoved down his throat. Something pulled his soul away, as the deserted wasteland shifted once again...

_**The Other Side.** _

It was a dreadful place. Though, what else could one expect from Hell itself?

A never ending yellow light irradiated from the pitch dark sky. There were no stars to be seen. Not even the sun. The place should have been scalding. Or warm, at the very least. But it was not. There was always a chill in the air. There was always a quiet shiver of anticipation, as the unforgiving sand devoured the forgotten idols of humanity.

Of all things, what Mikael hated most was the sand banks. And yet, he could not deny the beauty of his surroundings. It was asphyxiating and very appropriate for a place of eternal torment. Still, he hated how the inexistent wind raised the sand into the air, revealing the remains of fallen Empires, only for it to be devoured the next instant.

Mikael always fought to find a safe heaven, a place to sit and take his feet off the sandy ground. This time it was a medieval fallen column. But he knew his refuge will soon be devoured too.

As he watched the wind uncover a burned cathedral, Mikael felt a hand softly touching his shoulder. His eyes widened as Esther sat beside him. She never came looking for him when he died. He always resented her for such neglect. Though, as her hand fell over his, he studied sorrows expression. _It'd be too painful..._ he concluded.

"The spell is almost ready." She declared, her eyes fixed on the horizon. "I'll be back with them soon." She sighed, a small smile shaping her lips.

Mikael sighed, looking away from his wife. He fidgeted with his arm ring.

"It's a wretched idea, my love." He muttered, uncertainly.

"They need us." She urged, squeezing his hand. "Our children need us, Mikael."

He chuckled. "They aren't children anymore, love." he sighed softly, biting his lip. "They haven't been in such a long time..."

She scoffed. "They will always be our children." Her voice was an angry whisper.

Mikael shrugged. In the distance, an airplane appeared on the top of a dune. They both watched in silence as it slid down a valley. Soon, it was gone.

"What about that boy you have?" Esther asked abruptly. Her voice was high and sweet. Though her eyes jumped around, nervously.

Esther glanced furtively at her husband, studying his changed expression. Though, she should have known better. As soon as her eyes fell upon his face, memories of their life together flooded her mind. She had forgotten how beautiful he was when his eyes were lost in thought. _Oh, what I wouldn't give_ , she pondered despite her best efforts, _to kiss his lips one last time..._

Still, his serious posture reminded her of the nights before a battle, when he stayed up, gazing into the fire. Esther felt as though a knife was cutting through her heart. The memories of children, of little Elijah, Niklaus and Kol crawling over their father's lap, took her breath away. The larger smile on Mikael's lips when his sons fell asleep with their heads rested over his chest... Esther was sure the memories would kill her. _That smile_ , she sighed. _He never looked more beautiful than in those nights..._

"What about him?" He replied, shifting in his sit. Mikael's lips were contorted into a tense line. His eyes fixed on the changing ruins ahead, as though he feared facing his wife.

"Won't he worry?" She went on, awkwardly. Her mind still half lost in remembrance.

Mikael scoffed. "The boy knows better." A smiled played on his lips, but a shadow passed through his eyes.

Esther shrugged. A high metal tower appeared in front of them. Esther bit her lower lip as she watched it fall.

"Have you never wondered—," she began, uncertainly. "Who the boy's family is?" Esther did her best to hide any hints of jealousy in her voice.

She had not been present when Mikael "found" Hunter. She was watching over their children; weeping over the mistakes they made and cursing herself for her sins. Then, suddenly, her husband had a new son who he loved and treasured. _Gods_ , Esther thought more frequently than she liked to admit, _a child he raised better than our children!_ And yet, she had to come to terms with Mikael's love for the boy. Part of her—a small and sorrowful part—appreciated the influence Hunter had over Mikael. For over a thousand years, the stubbornly sweet boy was the only one who could carve a laugh out of her husband's lips.

"No." Mikael blurted out, his mouth twitching slightly. "The boy is mine." He declared, a strange solemnity dwelling on his voice.

Esther scoffed, but restrained herself from asking any more questions. She knew jealousy would drown her every word if she tried to continue on the matter. Everything about Mikael's posture seemed to deny the idea that the boy was his by blood. And yet, he seemed afraid to confirm such a theory. Although, he needed to deny all possibilities of the boy not being his own.

 _He is in denial_ , she concluded, triumphantly. Esther was aware that not even Hunter knew about his true parentage. _Of course, their bond is undeniable_ , she pondered, with a hint of bitterness. _But, so was Mikael's bond with Niklaus....how he loved their boy...._

Though, perhaps she was the one in denial. Esther's heart broke with the mere idea of Mikael loving another as he had loved her. It was selfish, and she knew it. Perhaps it would have been better if he had moved on with his life... But their story could not end in such a way. His promises of love were still fresh in her mind, and Mikael rarely broke his promises...

Besides, Esther knew her husband would die a thousand times before he gave up on their family.... _But he already has,_ a voice whispered from within her. Esther desperately tried to remember how many times her husband had been to Hell for their children. How many times she had watched Mikael carved a stake into his own heart? How many times had he begged his Gods for forgiveness as he failed to die...

Her heart sunk in her chest. Rebellious tears threatening her eyes.

The two of them sat in silence. They watched as castles raised from the ground, strong and magnificent, only crumbled to pieces—as if the Devil had made them out of sand.

Esther sighed. "It's time." She glanced at her husband, quietly begging him to take her hand into his.

Mikael frowned. But he took her hand and pressed it over his lips. Esther could not help but smile. A warm feeling filled her chest.

"Will we remember this, my love?" He asked. His voice low and tender.

Esther scoffed. "Why would you want to remember Hell, my darling?" A smile still shaped her lips.

Mikael chuckled. "I believe that I should," he sighed, his eyes shined with a tearful light. "I deserve to..."

Esther's hand flew to his shoulder. She opened her mouth. All she wanted was to comfort him, reassure Mikael he was not a monster. And yet, she found no words to do so. How could she? It would be a lie to tell Mikael he did not deserve Hell for his actions. But she was no saint herself. And yet, who decided what their punishment should be?

"Come with me." She blurted out, her eyes blurred by tears. "We, we can fix it—," she urged, with a breaking voice and trembling lips. "We can be a family—,"

"No." He mumbled softly. He glanced at her, a smile playing on his lips. "I'd like to stay here..." he sighed, his shining eyes running back to the horizon.

Esther sighed. "You know," she began, trying to control the bitterness in her voice. "Nature will never let you stay here, Mikael..." she declared, darkly.

Esther half expected Mikael to turn and face her again. This time with a defiant expression. She wanted to believe she could use his stubbornness—as she often used to. She could convince him; talk him out of his ways. Esther held such belief close to her heart and did not wish to forsake it.

And yet, Mikael did not turn to face her. He smiled as he raised her hand to his lips one more time.

"I know," he muttered, as he kissed her hand. "But still..." his eyes shined with a restless light as he watched to wretched horizon.

Esther felt her heart falling, as it had more than a thousand years before. A distant memory of her husband's eager eyes, as he watching the sea—long before any lines marked his face—, crawled into her mind. Always an adventurer...

With a swift move, she kissed his cheek. "I love you," she tried to mutter, as something pulled her soul into life.

Mikael's heart rattled in his chest. He jolted and turned around to face his wife. A broken _'I love you'_ burned in his tongue. But it died before it left his lips. Mikael blinked, feeling the sand devouring him. Esther is gone. The realization consumed his mind. Again....

The sand seemed to catch up on his loneliness. The Devil—ever so kind—always liked to play with the old Viking. From underneath Mikael, the column—his heaven—crumpled quietly. Mikael soon found himself sitting on his father's old stone throne.

The sand raised him to the top of a dune. As Mikael glanced down he saw the bloodstained crowns and swords he gained over his years of conquests.

In front of him, the sand revealed his victories: the walls of cities Mikael conquered for his father, the castles he burned down, the mountains he climbed. All of it. The empire Mikael built with his blood, but never inherit. But why would he? It was Stoick's Empire, and Mikael's father hated sharing air with others. Why would Stoick ever let his first-born son inherit his greatest achievements?

_No_ , Mikael concluded darkly, as he always did, _My father always meant for me to be the proud heir of_ , he chuckled bitterly. _Nothing in particular..._

Still, as his eyes swept through the ruins of his life, he smiled. Losing his empire was not his greatest failure.

In the distance, he caught sight of their small hut in the New World. Laughter echoed from it. Soon, what Mikael dreaded the most happened: memories flooded his mind. He could hear his children's delighted voices:

_"Father! Father!" They would run up to him as he arrived home after a long hunt. "We missed you!"_

_Niklaus always arrived first, and Mikael could not help loving his boy more for it. Klaus would quickly wrap his arms around his father's waist. Mikael always hugged him back, just as tightly. Elijah always came soon afterwards, smiling just as much as Niklaus. Though, he would stand quietly aside, waiting as Kol and Rebekah ran up to their father. His younger ones always had their hands shot up in the air, begging Mikael to take them in his arms. Finn would arrive last. He always held Esther's hand as they walked towards Mikael. Though, the boy could never hide his excitement when his father mess gently with his hair. They all shivered in anticipation when Mikael mentioned presents...._

A heart-sickening hollowness rattled in Mikael's chest. He held back a scream as his face fell into his hands. Sobs cut his breath before he could control himself. He slowly raised his eyes to the pitch dark sky. A shiver ran down his spine as he took a sharp breath. Mikael was ready to yell, to dare the Devil to come face him, to crawl his way back to the world of the living. He would even beg, if he had to. What he could not bear to do was to listen to their voices for another second.

When his throne crumpled, Mikael felt a breath of life being shoved down his throat. Something pulled his soul away, as the deserted wasteland shifted once again...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So fun fact: this chapter was inspired by a analysis of an old(ish) animation movie called Sinbad, the Legend of The Seven Seas. Cause I loved that movie as a kid. 
> 
> Anyway, I'd love your feedback on this chapter. Comments and votes are sooo appreciated. Thank you for reading.


	12. Our sins of desperation (Part 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you don’t like Finn Mikaelson, don’t read this chapter.
> 
> Also please if you like this leave kudos and comment your thoughts

_**The Vampires and their love** _

**Francesco** fidgeted with his cigarette as he waited. His eyes jumped from the darks waters of the river, to the abrupt curve up ahead on the road. He stood in the middle of the old bridge, tapping his fingers on his leg. The moonlight gave his dark hair a soft white glow. 

All his thoughts lingered desperately on his darling Finn. In 900 years, Francesco had met no one like him. Finn had been Fran's first love.

In their time, their love could be spoken out loud. But Finn already had so much to be ashamed of; he was already a lonely and unloved monster. So he hardly cared about who he fell for, as long as he could have a taste of peace. Francesco liked to think he gave Finn some peaceful days—beautiful, even.

The chilling air shoved memories down his throat. He remembered his dearest moments with Finn: their games, their laughs, their walks. Francesco had never seen Finn as happy as when they had picnics in the royal gardens. They shared almost two centuries of their lives, and even at the time it seemed too little. An eternity would not had been enough. To this day, Francesco cursed himself for letting Finn rejoin his siblings in Italy. If only Fran had not suggested they visited his homeland, perhaps he would still have his Finn with him....

A shiver ran down his spine. After the pain of losing his beloved, Francesco had never dared to love again. Not until he freed Finn. It had been his only thought throughout the centuries: to be reunited with Finn. Fran had run around the world, as madly as Mikael, looking for Finn. He had come close to finding him a few times. But, just with the Destroyer, the Mikaelson siblings always slid through Francesco's finger before he could catch them.

Nevertheless, Francesco would never stop looking. He made a promise. Fran swore he'd show Finn the beautiful flowers he planted at the top of Matterhorn*.

And yet, Hunter's words crawled into his mind, with a viciousness that cut through Fran's bones. The little jester was not entirely wrong. Francesco had known about Finn's imprisonment for almost three centuries. He never found out for how long Finn had been daggered, but his heart broke just thinking about it.

He wanted to ripped Niklaus apart for leaving his own brother in such a torturous state. But he knew if he rushed into something reckless, Finn could be lost forever. Francesco had held back his rage out of love, not fear. And if he could not free his beloved at once, at least he could end Finn's torment.

Fran had already started befriending witches back then. He hoped one of them would help him find and protect Finn. But it had been of little use.Mikael had a similar idea, and his witch-friends were more powerful (and weirdly friendly). After much pleading (all behind Mikael's back), one of Mikael's friends accepted the request.

Using one of Finn's possessions (the last Francesco still had), the witch built a dream world. She pulled Finn's mind into it and his suffering was over. Francesco was very specific about how the world should be. _A garden with tools and books, so he doesn't get bored._

Throughout the centuries, Francesco had pondered visiting Finn. But he knew he would not leave if he did so.

Fran had tried to free Finn countless times as the years went on. Though he only came close to succeeding twice, his willingness had never wavered.

Still, Hunter was right about one thing: Francesco never told Mikael about Finn. Fran trusted the Viking warrior with his life (literally, considering Mikael had saved Francesco more times than either of them minded counting). Mikael was his mentor and friend. But, for as strong and terrifying as Mikael was, Fran knew he too had a weakness.

_Mikael would do anything to protect his children_. Francesco pondered as he put out his cigarette. _But with Niklaus.... Mikael is just.... Too weak_.

"No," he concluded darkly. "It doesn't matter what it takes," he took a sharp breath as the sound of a speeding motor cut the air. "I'll make sure he's free this time." His lips trembled with anticipation as the car approached the bridge.

"I'll make sure we're happy." Francesco muttered, his hands shaking slightly.

****

**Damon** Salvatore ignored six phone calls from Davina. He only picked up the seventh because a tired-looking Elena almost yelled at him from the back sit. He and Stefan did their best to calm her down, but it was no use.

Damon hung up unceremoniously. Elena wasn't pleased, but her stressed and tired mind had trouble thinking straight. Elena had just opened her mouth to asked about the girl in the phone, when they saw the man standing in their way.


	13. Our sins of desperation (part 2)

_**The Witches and their rage** _

**Davina** yelled. After they hung up, she could feel rage and power running through her. All she wanted was to save Josh. But, somehow, she knew that if it was not possible for her to save him; she would like to burn Klaus alive instead. 

Davina screamed until her voice died out. She could not believe how naïve she had been.

Wearily, she glanced at Josh, who laid on the table in a dreadful state of agony. _He doesn’t have time for this,_ was all she could think.

Guilt quickly made its way to her heart. Davina kicked the remains of the spell she had just performed as the wind rattled in the curtains. The spell worked, or at least she thought so. The Salvatore brothers had convinced her to make a spell that would free the other Mikaelson siblings. In exchange, they promised the Destroyer would bring her Klaus’s blood, after the Vampire Hunter had killed his bastard son. 

She had heard little about the Destroyer. Though, they said he was a man of his word. Now, however, it did not matter. Mikael was dead. Davina’s only chance to save Josh and avenge Marcel was gone, and there was nothing she could do. 

Sobs cut her breath as she numbly ran her eyes through her open books. Though were no new spells on the pages, and certainly no spell that could cure a werewolf's bite. 

“ _There is still another way, child.”_ Na eerie voice whispered.

Davina jolted. She knew the voice was not her own, and yet it came from within her. It reminded her of her nightmares; her sleepless night trying to forget about what her ancestors whispered when she was dead. A dreadful shiver ran down her spine as she looked around numbly. There was no one there. But a strange presence hovered over her. 

_“I can help you save him.”_ The voice continued, and Davina understood why it frightened her so much. 

The mere acknowledgment of its existence seemed to give the voice more power. The wind rattled in the curtains again, this time dragging a vase to the ground, to pieces. 

With shaking hands and tearful eyes, Davina got up. “What do I have to do?” she whispered, hearing her heart jumping in her chest.

The voice had no lips, of course. It was a mere presence, a spirit. And yet, Davina felt its smile; cold, dead, and terrifying. 

The instructions for the spell were not whispered. They magically appeared in Davina’s mind.

She rushed through the house, grabbing herbs and dark objects. She quickly arranged the preparations for the spell. Since Davina did everything it told her to do, the eerie voice seemed to step back—if one could walk without feet. The spirit was smiling still; it’s excited was obvious and dire.

Davina was sure she should not cross such a creature, whatever it was. But as she drew a magical circle with salt, another voice crawled into her mind. This one was friendly, and it sounded more like her own voice. Though, she knew it was not hers. 

_“Take precautions.”_ Was all it said. In the past, Davina would have thought it was too little; she would have felt lost. But, now, it was enough. 

With a swift move, Davina did what she was told once again. She thwarted with the spell, ever so slightly. The voice did not seem to notice, and Davina knew she would feel if it had. 

Her lips trembled as Davina chanted the words of the spell. 

The lights flickered. The candles around the circle burned brighter until the magic of the circle pulled their fire into it. The flames, spinning madly, made a small tornado within the magical boundaries. The wind took over the room, breaking vases, stealing papers and stirring the flames. 

Davina covered her ears as a high-pitched scream cut through the air. When the windows broke, she closed her eyes. As the silence fell over the room once more, she slowly raised her gaze. The flames of the candle were normal once more. But the fire tornado had left a body in the middle of the circle. 

The young witch held her breath as she stepped forward. Davina wrapped her fingers around her magic bracelet. She prayed softly for her spell to have worked. 

***

**Esther** crawled out of her coffin as the air filled her lungs. She coughed bitterly. Life burned through her body like wildfire. She had forgotten what it felt to be alive, to breathe.

As her weak and trembling feet touched the floor, Esther looked around. The young Bennet witch was unconscious on the floor. 

Esther silently thanked Ayana’s descendant for bringing her coffin so close to her children. She knew Bonnie had only done that so they could use Esther’s spirit to convince Rebekah to betray Niklaus. Still, Esther was thankful for it, since she knew she would could never find her way to her children otherwise.

And yet, as Esther thought of what could have happened if young Bonnie and her friends succeed, a vicious anger boiled up inside her chest. Still, as enraged as she was with the young Bennett’s actions, it pained Esther to leave her friend’s kin in such a state. 

But she must hurry. Her children would soon be awake and they will need her. 

Esther made her way through the busy streets of New Orleans with ease. A small smile shaped her lips as she breathed the morning air. It was dawn. When she strolled through the front yard of her son’s country house, her smile faded. She could hear her children fighting inside. 

_No matter,_ she thought, raising her chin and enjoying the smell of wet grass. _I’ll do everything right this time._ She concluded, a new and brighter smile stamped on her lips. _I’ll make sure they all know love before the end…._

**Author's Note:**

> Also English isn’t my first language, but I tried to keep the spelling mistakes to a minimum. I really appreciate comments.
> 
> (And by the way, I like adverbs and I will use them. I know it’s a weird hill to die own, but hey.)
> 
> Chronologically, this is actually the penult work of the series I'm writing called: "Is This Still a Tragedy?". This series focus on the Mikaelson siblings and their parents.  
> (But you don't have to read any other fic to get this one, though if you like this, you might also like the others. )


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